I didn’t know why
I stopped at the chapel
that afternoon, the sun hitting me between the eyes
as I entered the cool quiet.

I got on my knees
and prayed while the wax dripped
down the cheeks of the Madonna,
candles sputtering weakly.

I knelt for some time,
a prodigal daughter returned at last
to the arms of the father.
Then came the call;

I smelled ashes and the cloying rot
of Easter lilies on the altar—
their cut green stalks gasping,
their white trumpets ablaze,
summoning the angels.

This article appears in April 27 2020.

Therese Gleason’s chapbook, Libation, was co-winner of the South Carolina Poetry Initiative Chapbook Competition. Her work has appeared in Limestone, Plainsongs, The Worcester Review, and is forthcoming in the New Ohio Review.