daily poetry
committed to creating and posting one poem per day.
October 1, 2009
#189 chewing the pew
teeth on the pew
varathane in my mouth
the priest moves his mouth
but his words blur into background sound, hum of a fridge
if mum asks me about the homily
i'm in for it
and no Sunday Donut
i stand
because everyone stands
bow my head in pretend prayer
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