A man
Scratches Poesis onto a whiteboard
In a suburban church.
.
Alcohol dripping from the marker.
.
Instead of listening to his lecture
A woman sketches my profile
Onto blue paper with kid craft black chalk.
.
She gives me a pointy nose.
.
I sit sizing up the schemas sculpted
By the mouths of those who hold scripture
Like I hold this sweaty metallic banknote.
.
The collection plate is being passed around.
.
My mind pauses its internal debate to hear man’s final refrain:
Something about allocating free space in my day
To contemplate grace and its relation to my fate.