from where I work,
with a steeple
high in the air,
a cross on top,
takes up a whole block.
Seems to be empty most of the
A little farther
down the street,
squats on a measly plot.
Seems to be packed all the time.
a staunch hellfire and brimstone
they oughta take them prisoners
to that big ol' church,
lock 'em up,
hold 'em there
till they repent.
~Copyright © 1993 Ruth Gillis~
First published in Potpourri
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