Truck Stop Preacher
       

Hair teased and hairspray halo rolled into
a beehive with a thousand bobby-pins.
Uniform starched and pressed,
hanging below the knee.
Slip resistance shoes, there's a lot
of truckers and souls to save tonight.
She's serving food with a side
of praise. Glory be his name.
"What ails you hon, I'll pray for you."
Don't matter if you believe, she's got
enough faith to heal your heartburn
and heartache. There's a pocket bible
in her apron with her order pad.
Leave a tip she'll throw in a prayer for free.
Who knew holy roller was a speed demon.
"Why yes, officer I did wait on you."
With a wink, he lets her slide.
Sins forgiven. God's got an eye on her.
Her uniform graces the floor by the door,
there's a dirty slip beneath.
Her children are wailing.
She's too tired to care, she broke her
smile on that last prayer.
She eats dinner without saying grace.
Her oldest is the fool for cooking.
Bible verse thumping headache.
Wake up kid, quiet your sister.
Truck stop preacher counts her tips;
There's a tithe to pay, pass the offering plate.
She's the donation queen.
Let God provide for her
children. She needs sleep
and the flock needs more sheep.

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Copyright © 2022 Sage Ravenwood All rights reserved
from Colorado Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission