Another Prose Poem
My resolution to sleep late faltered at around 5:45 as J showered and dressed for work. By 6:00 AM, I was wide awake, or thought I was. I had read the obituaries, checked Word Press blogs, and am now watching trains, as the coffee brews and the need to sleep has me looking at the Smart phone screen with one eye as I punch the little letters on the screen and see words appear.
I should, at some time, go to Mass, even as I mourn the collapse of faith about me. Predators and monsters wear chasubles, albs, even miters. The Precious Body feeds broken hearts, no matter who consecrates the Bread.
Auden’s September 1, 1939 reads again in my head, as if for eighty years , we remain in that bar, to mark the end of yet another low, mean decade.
I want that cup of coffee now.