Saint Rachel, pray for us.
Forgive us, though we know
what we do.

Here on the edge
of small-town America
in the heart of “God’s Country”
on the outskirts of the one universe
we claim to know
women drop used diapers
in the Wal-Mart parking lot,
wanna-be fishermen leave beer cans,
plastic bottles and Styrofoam worm boxes
on riverbanks. Here, neighbors
put plastic bags of trash on the edge
of the lawn where every stray dog and cat
scatters the contents up and down the streets.

Here on the edge
of small-town America
in the heart of “God’s Country”
on the outskirts of the one universe
we claim to know
a man wearing lime-striped tennis shoes,
a yellow shirt and clashing off-yellow hat
spends Sunday mornings wielding
his home-made stick-with-a-nail-in-the-end-of-it
picking up our trash.

Saint Rachel, pray for us.
Can you forgive us, since we know
what we must –
and what we must not do?
 


Comments


Your comment will be posted after it is approved.


Leave a Reply