Cathedral
I take care to pick a seat
untouched by sun to hide
my face from the believers.
In a house of worship where
I’ve never knelt,
I watch pilgrims press
forward with small donations, touching
wicks to those already lit, adding
heat to the chorus.
I’ve long wanted to
stand at the altar, to light
my wick with the flame
of another.
I have wanted to sing.
