non sum dignus
at the top of the hill is a church with great stone steps leading up to the front double doors. through the doors, a red plush carpet leads to the altar raised slightly, slightly above the congregation kneeling at their wooden pews. at the head of the plush red carpet is the priest, green vestments embroidered (by whom? what a question) all round its edges with flowers (what kind? stop talking) and over the shoulders of the priest is a silk stole also green, also embroidered with a stylized alpha and omega, one at each end. above the priest hangs at an angle tilting forward slightly toward the congregation, a life sized crucified christ on his cross, complete with all his wounds and suffering face, poor thin christ, every muscle contorted in agony (stop flexing your muscles and stay still) and the priest says lord i am not worthy to receive you but only say the word, and in front of the priest, kneeling at the third pew from the front is a child, her mouth pressed against the wood of the pew which tastes like lemon polish (are you tasting it? cut that out, jesus) who is looking up at the cross and concentrating on the links of the chains which suspend christ forever, only two of them would have to break, that’s all it would take, she reckons she knows which two as well, and that girl was me.