It is late,
and there is no
black bird to
sing me to sleep.
So I will stay
awake and glass-
eyed in this
great stone church
where the saints have
no heads and the
angels do not
look down.
I will stay here
with no lamps
and open the
gospels in the dark.
I will whisper
the words that I
can read.
I will eat the
bread and not swallow.
I will twist myself
into a prayer.
They will build churches
in my name.
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