Not Rosaries Nor Missals – Enough Stains – July 2013



the nuns frowned at me
a wet blanked on the upward
holy smoke of prayer
God would no speak
to little girls another
door slammed

on its squeaky hinges
not sure which sound
was more painful


I had bought for the occasion
a dark gentle wool kilt – I felt I was
in for something important

each thread of  that wool
received my tears, the sweat
of my hands grief stricken

it kept its dark hue for long
was kept in a wardrobe
enough stains on it



2013-07-05 16.08.10

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