There is a stone near my house.
When streetlamps are lit
this stone appears to be a woman, huddled,
hooded, praying in the night. Perhaps
she has abandoned prayer.
There is a shredded tire, stretched out, folded,
lying on the freeway near my house. Driven past,
this tire seems to be a woman, prostrate,
oblivious, praying in the night. Perhaps
(there is one specific moment, driving past,
when shattered windowglass around the woman flashes)
she has abandoned her need for prayer.
Copyright John D Porter © 1997
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