by Caleb Wix
Ancestral wooden floors,
ladened long years,
before foreman.
The chapels beating heart laid where Jesus crossed.
Dimmed flaccid eyes of stone, gazing.
A woman’s tennis shoes, scraping the holy aisle,
where she sat upon the sermons.
Weeping choirs of angels,
Beckoning promises intertwined with love,
faith and wellness, for all,
yet deafened for her,
and her short hair.
Pacing at her, a man, hobbling with age,
gazing with unholy holiness.
His hand raised, absolving her shoulder,
looking her in the eyes,
Corinthians 6:9-10, weeping,
“God will forgive you”
before pacing away,
embracing the stone eyes of the lord.
She adjusted her short hair,
and golden pendant of the cross,
aching on her neck,
ladened with her wife’s favorite cologne.
Caleb Wix is currently a freshman at YSU pursuing a English Literature degree.
