Sunscreen

That day we went to Southport without a thought of Time, or Love, or God, or even sunscreen — when it was late July, and we were nineteen, when beer and cigarettes were all we brought, when swimming naked meant the glimpses caught were also offered, when no desire was unclean, when death was in…

Relics

The saint in her stasis reclined there, Preparing to rise, her handlers made clear, On what bailiffs call the Last Great Day When they swear in the witnesses at court. Wouldn’t it be fine to see it happen In the rainy doldrums of a Thursday, The skies finally parting, not for the sun, But the…

(c) 2019 North American Anglican