Stained-Glass Girl
Stained-Glass Girl
you should be an image in stained-glass windows
the same ones you trace with your eyes every sunday
while hymns echo in your ears, words
you've known so long you forget the meaning.
or you belong in a portrait
hung beside a cross, bathed in darkness –
a girl of tragic beauty, people would think,
not knowing how
the sun catches your golden wisps
of hair when you tilt your head back laughing, turning them
to spun silk. don't tell me you're not pure, because
it's the meaning of your name, because
if you're not pure, what am i?
i want religion, so sometimes i pretend i have it
when i talk to you on sunny days pinched by cold, and wonder at how
your voice sounds like church bells.
tell me a new hour has begun, and let the light
turn your chipped nail polish
to stained glass.
The Voice
May 2025
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