Church Window

perilous thy broken church window
through winter’s eternity animals only
question when shalt death find thee
and where
—in a woman ghost’s lovely light,
vile preacher!
in the picture of thy daughter’s heart!
and in that poisoned society
so now bring mother,
bring sleep,
our slow bodies’ blood dance
and to all that is grace and sacred
and lovely to the Lord
wilt though mended window yield

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can also donate some of your hard-earned dollars down below—that’s money to me, for free!


Gabriel Muoio


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