He fills the flower vases, trims the candle bases, takes small change
from
the poor box. Tyler has the key. He takes nail and hammer to tack up
the
banner of felt scraps glued together reading, "Jesus Lives In Me."
Alone in
the night he mocks the words of the preacher: "God is feeling your
every pain."
Repair the Christmas stable, restore the plaster angel. Her lips begin
to
crumble and her robes begin to peel. For Bible study in the church
basement,
hear children Gospel citing, Matthew 17:15. Alone in the night he
mocks the
arms of the preacher raised to the ceiling, "Tell God your pain."
To him the world's defiled. In Lot he sees a likeness there; he swears
this
Sodom will burn down. Near Sacred Blood there's a dance hall where
Tyler Glen
saw a black girl and a white boy kissing shamelessly. Black hands on
white
shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know
what's more.
He's God's mad disciple, a righteous title, for th

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