His family straight as stalks,
fix their eyes on him like sunflowers follow sun.
Dressed in white: short pants, long socks,
he peeks over the pleated shoulder
of a black robe, cants his eyes
from parents to pastor
who dampens his hair three times—
Father Son Holy Ghost.
After the service, I step into
the sunbeam of his mother’s smile,
pat his back.
He reaches for me
curls a dimpled arm
around my neck
presses the petal of his ear
to my cheek, and it is I
who is anointed.
Page 8, An Eclipse and a Butcher. First published in Fall Lines, The Jasper Project.