by Will Monigold
On Friday nights
She talks to the Jesus.
On other nights she
Drinks fortified wine from
Heart shaped bottles.
A thousand boxes
Are stacked around
Filling rooms
That are otherwise
Unoccupied.
She practices piano
In a church basement
Where they feed the homeless
And track children
Who have no place
To cry after school.
Late at night
She questions
Her right to live.
Mostly she defers
To the lack of wisdom
Others maintain
populates the universe.
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