14 | new york

2004

they leave the candles burning
in the churches in New York City
beyond the oak doors shutting
like clockwork at night
when it becomes a daily task
to gather up irreverently
all those used tea lights, pallid
bought and paid for prayers
pitch them in a cardboard box
and out onto the street to rest
in the cataclysmic peace
of a local garbage man’s
forearm aim