the stage manager is tearing seams and drinking salty coffee (a book of poems by

glory be

the coffee is sweet here, sugar and milk jigging on your tongue. there is a woman on the radio praying the rosary, repeats of Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, and my mother, her mouth forming the familiar words, is saying it with her. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. I am jerked from my Maya Angelou fog, the prayer reminding me of Sundays spent with hands folded together, eyes half-closed, the ominous statue of the Virgin Mother with the serpent at her feet, the flowers on her head, burning a hole into my mind.

8.19.15

still on that road trip y'all