wisps of my mother’s LatinÂ
haunt my head whileÂ
my fingers caress the water’s surface
and I cross myselfÂ
In the name of the Father, the SonÂ
 et Spiritus Sancti
in the sanctuary, old womenÂ
peppered across cedar pews
rosaries wound round their knucklesÂ
chant to our LadyÂ
making grace bloom in my dusty heart
though I never belonged here
as a child, I prayed to the moon
and now leave witches’ laddersÂ
to unravel back into the earth
in the ivy patch behind my shed
yet the quiet feeds me
musty incense
cool granite pillarsÂ
still whisper a little likeÂ
the divine in the tiny girlÂ
corners of my mind
God is not the building and is
enough to get me through
with some kind of peaceÂ
until evening
Jeanette Barszewski received an MFA in Poetry from Brooklyn College. Her poems and short fiction have appeared in Literary Mama, Cooper Street, O-Dark-Thirty and Elixir Verse.Â
Jeanette is a queer writer currently residing in Hamilton, NJ with her family. She enjoys old-lady hobbies like gardening and making art out of pressed wildflowers. You can find out more about her at www.jeanettebarszewskiauthor.com