[146]

Wrong am I who puts his faith

In wishes made by votive candles

Yet the success of love is only

A flame’s flicker of a chance

Or a prayer heard by the edge of a pew

To have two souls converge at

Just the right moment in place and time

–

The gravity of stories unread weighs

Upon this hard head who knows it must

Keep its chin held high even to

The snubs of a grey sky or when

Even the sun feels the need to burn

A boy without his icarus wings to

Send him spiraling to another sort of

Depth as deep as turbulent seas