I have made churches
of city evenings
could count back every step
if I had to
sacrosanctity from the trolley
and up the fire escape
living a moment-by-moment mourning
when the days by number line
and you can
see down the row
with you on fiche
in the viewfinder of my mind
memory is a shunt that around
revelry and catastrophe flow
when I get to the clearing
with presence brackish and charged
I'll come to you, I know I will
where you sit at the end of my prayer.

Curator at Going For the Throat, columnist for Into The Void, progenitor of stand-up tragedy™.

Jim Trainer publishes a collection of poetry every year through Yellow Lark Press.

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