Package Store

A bum—a holy fool all I knew.
I’d just redeemed some cans, a case or two
And grabbed a single by the checkout queue.
Not my proudest move. Remember though,
Throwing stones is often quid pro quo.
His robe of castoff clothes, his beard askew.
He grabbed a bottle, then he bade adieu,
Handing over all his handout dough.
Might as well throw caution to the wind.
The jingle of the bell above the door
As he stepped out to reap what he had sown,
Reminded me: had Adam never sinned…
O happy fault that finds us on the floor,
Blacked out, face down alone with the Alone!


Daniel Rattelle

Daniel Rattelle's poetry and criticism has been published or is forthcoming in First Things, Modern Age, Crisis, Catholic World Report, Alabama Literary Review and elsewhere. He is a graduate student at the University of St Andrews. Follow him @Drattelle.


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