11/20

sunday school

i'm sending my white knee socks
to the bell tower so they can learn something
about god. one of my toes is crooked
& i wonder which hymn i broke it on.
it's alright though because
rachel & i agree all feet are ugly.
children in sunday school 
are standing on the ceiling
& the blood is rushing to their heads.
someone get them down before
they plummet themselves.
linoleum is holy. neon is holy. 
a bat in the attic wakes from a bad dream
with no one to comfort her.
the mice hold midnight mass
& use cheese for the eucharist.
in fifth grade my sunday school class
learned about the parts of the mass.
i don't remember any of it
but do remember i had a crush 
on a boy with longish hair
& he used to spend the whole class
cracking his knuckles & checking the window
as if someone might be peering in.
the angels have taken the last
five to seven years off entirely. they cover
their ears & say "don't tell me what happens."
the sacristy is waiting for us.
once the eucharist turned 
into a butterfly in my mouth
so i swallowed quickly
before it could escape.
i want someone to teach me 
how to love my own rapid uncertainty.
what am i supposed to do 
with my ankles? i wash the feet
of a demon & tell him
"i'm only doing this to make
my family upset with me."
he shrugs. it's sunday again 
& again & again & i want nothing
to do with it. the children 
in sunday school take turns
kissing in the utility closet.
a nun with a round face
admits defeat & joins the others 
in the attic. i keep a bowl
of ash under my sink 
in case i need to be reminded.
the dust can be so loud.
i peer at it & whisper "hush."

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