by Susan Francino
Rather weighed down
by tone-deaf singing,
the record of my own dead prayer,
I emerge from the church
—first to leave, fleeing—to find
the end of a gleaming moment:
a robin, basking in the sun
on the warm concrete where
the evening light has pooled.
He startles and flies—
but for a moment, a pool of warmth,
a pool of stillness, for a moment,
the end of all things
Susan Francino holds a BA in Latin from Hillsdale College and an MFA in Poetry from Seattle Pacific University. Her work has also appeared in The American Journal of Poetry.