underneath pews laughing,
playing hide and seek. Not
venerating Eve or stained-glass
icons but kindling conflagrations.
On Sundays we blackened
barbeque ribs, warmed apple
cider, and cured salted pork.
Gossamers of smoke formed alphabets
on church ceilings and darkened our eyes
with soot. We burned nine layers
of black circles in newspaper
ashtrays and held candles
under dangling arachnids we
never forgave for slinking.
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