The ones who play with water.

I have always believed water is magic.
I learned young-- maybe watching from
windows slide between the glass and the
front of my mother's legs as she stood too
singing "Pray for us, pray for us, prays for us."
Saint Mary, Saint Clair, Saint Augustus,
Saint William, Saint Joseph, Saint Sarah--
Saint Sarah who would always be a princess--
Saint Mary, Saint Mary my mother
Saint Mary-- and there was the statue 
with her feet that kill snakes
and every time I walked into the church
I looked at her and the snake
-- I thought she was beautiful--
watched the babies and the water and I
always wished they would baptize me 
again in a bathing suite so I could
stand in the fountain-- I'm a person
who wants to be submerged-- and that comes
from creeks and the cathedral of the
forest where my father told me
parables of his own mischief and I walked
on slime stones in my algae toes-- peeled
frogs from the holy water to kiss
them and pulled back my water tendril hair.
I was the last to leave the pool in a thunderstorm
let God strike me with thunder-- 
blare like a bullfrog in lightning
smooth my veins into the water and when 
I die I want to be water so that no 
one will believe that I am gone-- feel
me in the mist more than the rain
even though I want to live my
life like the baptism of the July downpour
I was born of.
I am the child with the soaked hair and
bare feet. I catch rain drops in my
mouth and drink from the creek
with my hands-- still carry holy water
in my lips and dip my index finger
to make the sign of the cross
before I enter the pool during 
the thunderstorm.
I have always believed in water.
From the window I'm still humming
"Pray for us, pray for us, pray for us,"
while watching God baptize the parking lot.