Two Anonymous Poems

prayer of the heart

Wednesday

I sit in my golden shitbox

The ebony prayer beads pass through my index finger and thumb

Twenty-five, fifty, one hundred times

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner

Jesus Christ, have mercy on me

Jesus, mercy

Vocation

Every Easter

She tells me

That wrinkled woman from a bygone age

Of death and decadence

She tells me

You will be a priest

Yes, with

your green Franciscan eyes,

your slender Sufi fingers,

your bare Druid’s feet

your empty throat

You must be a priest

Passed down that immortal soul

That vine of so many fruits

That ancient forest which has

Grown and burned,

Grown and burned,

Grown and burned,