The Sins of Others

Hail Mary,

full of grace,

Snow begins

m

   e

      l

        t

          i

            n

               g

and last

 fall

slowly re-

turns. ­ Up.

the Lord is

with thee;

Apparitions

of us     start

easing out,

creased and crumpled,

wrinkled

and wet—

blessed art thou

among women,

I’ve gone out

   to gather

the last icicle

hanging on

evening’s eave:

A single drop

drips like a drupe

from the tip;

instead of stone

within, one

immaculate

                   tear.

and blessed is

the fruit

of thy womb,

Jesus.

You’re still

    inside

with a glass

                    (of wine)

Holy Mary,

mother of God,

pray for us sinners

  the plastic

      beads

of the rosary

c·o·u·n·t·i·n·g

decades

  of mysteries:

now and at the hour

of our death.

           joyful, sorrowful,

glorious, luminous,

                   comforting.

Amen.

_