i sit so still on the pew

that one could mistake me

for part of it,

carved out of the same

oak wood.

always there

when it’s empty & dust

darts in / out

of stained sunlight,

lilacs & blues

washing peace

across my cheekbones

.

the echo of exhausted pipes

rings through my body

as it quiets down

on the walls

.

the screaming silence

reminding me that it’s always waiting

when i don’t know where else

to go

.

sometimes

a little organ man

presses keys on the stage

dangling above my head.

he can’t see that i’m there

but i just close my eyes,

absorb each note

vibrating so solemnly,

so lovingly.

(8/3/20)