Flu-blown,
trapped in ambivalence,
through the pane I spy
two church ladies
disembarking from a silver
Chrysler. Captured-
Lurching to the door
to intercept prim
London Fog coats, silk
scarves, stockings and pumps.
Polite, smiling, like kindergarten
teachers, condemning
non-believers to hells full
of prim, smiling, London Fog-wearing
Bible-bearing, pamphleteering
chosen people of God.
"The Bible is full of hope" they say.
I hope they will stop coming.
Yet Catholic guilt answers the door,
Buddhist loving-kindness leaves
me mute. Maybe this is penance for
the coward's excuses
that render me a hypocrite,
roughly once a month, or
every sixth week on Sunday.
