Sherrie WELLER

SUPPOSEDLY, SHE NEVER HAD SEX

there were candles on pedestals,
plants on altars, gold chalices filled
with flat bread hosts and sweet wine,
censers dangling from tarnished

silver chains, holy-water in marble
bowls mounted on entrance walls,
red leather kneelers, white
robes, cherry wood pews,

deep plum velvet hung
over a half-naked man,
a crown of thorns, blood on
feet and forehead and palms

and off to the side, behind the pulpit,
a statue draped in virgin blue, remnants
of when gods had thighs and hips and breasts.

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