what was my church
is now apartments.
brick, a secular repurposing,
sanctuary turned honeycomb
buzzing with industry and aspiration.
outwardly brick-stoic new england,
needle-spired, mullioned windows
maple pews painted white, cushioned in blood-red velvet.
my parents were married there,
and i, dunked and confirmed christian.
i am a slow, rebellious study
but this faith we share;
to be of use is my calling, too;
less vault, more beam,
(this is in no way a complaint.)
from possibility, baby, child, woman, mother,
ticking clock, worn hymnal,
find my place;
every day a shift and shoring,
i have been the faithful gathering,
and am also, now, apartments.