Outward Signs

Communion, 1968

I knelt against the pew,
leaning in again to see
Mary, the black hair
falling straight down
the back of her dress,

the faint freckles
scattered under eyes
that, after Mass,
made blue flowers
appear on the chicory
pushing out at the curbs,
dancing around the
telephone poles,
as cars rushed past me
standing in front
of the church.

As still as a statue, she
knelt beside her beautiful
mother, the Body
of Christ dissolving
in our mouths.