Where is it Clean
when your mother can rise from her place
on the pew during the early service,
early enough that the sun barely fills the sky
with its weak straw, but row after row
in the auditorium is flush with folks who want
to be home before the football game gets underway
or hate the slower pace the later service takes
but still got to get their god on
before starting a new week: when she can rise
and tip down the aisle, three-inch heels
pointing a warning at hell through the plush
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