Scant yards away the asphalt stews beside
a shell that crowds this well-heeled thoroughfare.
Imagine faces leathered by sun-parched air,
strong hands in search of one more glory ride.
There must have been complaints--implied
by any holy house deprived of prayer.
Perhaps the deacons should have been austere
enough to ward off risk of patricide.
Next door, a poodle grooming service thrives.
Across the street, insurance limits loss.
So strange to see a stained glass sacrifice.
Here every other enterprise survives.
Yet grace still lives within a peeling cross,
and no one can complain about the price.
From A Poetry Break (Ocean Publishing, 2004)
Used with the authorís permission.
Kay Day is one of those writers who does it all--poetry, memoir, nonfiction, journalism, technical...you name it, she does it--and does it well. Host of a daily syndicated blog called "The US Report," and a columnist for the online version of The Writer Magazine, Kay is the author of an award-winning poetry collection and a memoir. A former South Carolinian now living in Jacksonville, Florida, Kay's work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies and she is a frequent guest at schools and book events. She will serve as senior media analyst at the Congressional Medal of Honor Society Convention in Charleson, SC, in the fall of 2010.
There are no comments for this poem yet.