The scent of holy water

fills the street where she lives

like church every day

like amber to a girl who studies

silver statue catches spiders in the late day sun

we’re green as pollen

wind doesn’t change her

I asked for paper

she asked for records

I asked for photos

she kindly took them

if you know what confession feels like

memories of

mass on Christmas  Eve

always kneeling

holding your little fist to your heart

each time the bell rings

than I know that you know

the scent of holy water and incense;

these streets of spring

 

 

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