Outside the Church
The clinic hardly ever called the cops The church never did as it stood above the measured doses of free penicillin and Quell above those eternally seeking salvation in the all-night rap rooms soaking abscesses in patience in stupor confusion and hot water up against the church between the gray walls and the low branches you had to crawl like a penitent over the roots ducking beneath the leaves to get to the sanctuary empty spray cans and garbage
From A Plastic Bag of Red Cells by Annie Petrie-Sauter. Copyright © 2010 by Annie Petrie-Sauter. Used by permission of Bright Hill Press.