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In Church

January 13, 2013

Their faces lined up as I remember them
are votive candles in a church nave.
I light each one, changing her forever
each flame blackening the wick
the candle shorter each second it burns.
The flame, too, a memory of the flame lit
the wax pooling then disappearing, a
faint whiff that passes and disappears
in the arch reaching towards Heaven
until the light gutters out, with
a spark and a fading wisp of grey.

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From → Poems

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