Wednesday, August 23, 2017


St. Crescentia's miracles
Are delicate, filagreed things
Covered with tiny bells,
Shards of seaglass,
Or, sometimes, feathers
From imaginary birds.
The one I know best
Includes a cage
Where old moonlight
Sits behind mouse-bone bars.
It was made in answer
To prayer not made
By a man I did not
Turn out to be.

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