Poetic Interlude XV

I know you wait for it, Man,
Expecting, envisaging.
Forgive me. Forgive me -
I left it in an abandoned church
And now I disremember the place.
There was a soot-blackened stove,
Its pipe the necessary holy icon;
A Jacob's Ladder for chilly Protestants.
Since there was no pulpit, I left it
Sitting in a corner of the preacher's pew,
Good company for a mouse nest.
Ivy had taken the front step, the wall,
The door, the southern roof -
More grace from nature than novena.
Some statues of Mary, for signs, weep water.
Some churches, as symbols, soak up blood.