Wednesday, September 14, 2011

world without end

She bought herself a rosary ring

for a dollar at the mission, planned

to learn the incantations,

let them overtake her,

slip it on to

conjure up the coolness of adobe walls,

the comfort of the circadian,

of completion.


At home, his shoulders

rolled it when she held him

or he’d twirl it

like a roulette wheel,

the scratch of

cheap metal stinging the soft

flesh folds of her fingers.

She’d laugh, and tell him

to start praying.

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