Brian Morrison
Devotion
as a kid
I always imagined
the monsignor
crouched in the
darkness of his sacristy
risking splinters
licking the bits
of dried blood off
his little sliver
of the Cross
"Poetry begins and ends with a rhyme." (D. Rudoy)
Brian Morrison
Devotion
as a kid
I always imagined
the monsignor
crouched in the
darkness of his sacristy
risking splinters
licking the bits
of dried blood off
his little sliver
of the Cross