They removed the artifacts from a historic church, not here
church she overlooked from her perch, or my church, long abandoned in memory,
but an unfamiliar architecture to which too few parishioners gto, most too old
to endure, gray heads floating above the pews in this vast, otherwise
unoccupied space, the vestments carved out along with the statues as if in the
end even God has surrendered, and we wait for the bulldozers to come, to level
it all, to erase every prayer ever said, this is not much church, so I feel
less than I might had if it had been, and will be when they come to do the same
for the church I knew best as a kid, I just feel bad looking up from her church
yard and see the vacancy of the window where she used to sit, another relic
lost from my life, another icon I might have prayed to, as in my mind I gravel
at her feet,
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