In a Dark Time Together

All day I say every blessings I can think of.
In the evening I study the empty votive jars:
pictures of saints in their private distress.
I touch where their lips just barely open:
whatever it is that entered, entered here.
One jar I stuff with gauze, keeping it quiet.
One with greasy nuts and bolts.
One, the Lonely Soul, with three red darts
to pierce the sooty air.

Copyright © 2009 Mary Ann Samyn All rights reserved
from Beauty Breaks In
New Issues Poetry & Prose
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission