Church of the Most Holy Redeemer

we are walking down second street
and talking in the two pm afternoon sun
when we notice that the doors are open

we could go in you know

you say and we
almost walk past
but we can't resist
the beckoning of silence

remember me sitting in a pew counting the number of times the holy ghost was said in the girls communion pamphlet remember easter sunday eating chocolate sticky wash my hands with holy water remember the meaning of my name remember that this culture belongs to someone remember that once the earth did not exist remember the way candles look in the darkness flickering remember when we sat by the river and talked about souls remember how i tried to fold one thousand paper cranes and the principal of my elementary school told me to write a letter instead remember how they all looked crumpled together in a paper bag in the closet remember that moonlight is like sunlight but cold remember that you are cold--

remember this right now me in
my white converse, toes pointed towards the altar
stepping

--remember it as you walk down into the train and don't look back and the closing doors are loud so fucking loud remember it when we apologize for the inconvenience but after an earlier incident this train is running with delays because of a track fire, we will (never) be moving shortly (ever again) remember this when you finally get home and its dark outside its nighttime and the cars are honking at you as you jaywalk because its not your light but this light's broken anyways and you just can't bring yourself to care remember this when its so black in your room that you stick your hand out in front of you and it dissipates remember this when your brother's firetruck goes off at one in the morning and you wish you took the batteries out or at least put it on the highest shelf above the refrigerator

remember this

silence