Thus, all the wood gone,
ash in its craw, the town
began again, for the hundredth
time. As if this was good.
As if it was the will of god,
or so the men in limestone
said from the doorways
of their sanctuaries, the glass behind them
stained with stories.
Two girls lifted offering plates on cue.
Three women stood at the tomb
in the wall above them, above the organ.
The angel under smoking wings
pointed to nothing anyone could see.
Angie Macri is the author of Underwater Panther (Southeast Missouri State University), winner of the Cowles Poetry Book Prize, and Fear Nothing of the Future or the Past (Finishing Line). Her recent work appears in The Journal, Quiddity, and The Southern Review. An Arkansas Arts Council fellow, she lives in Hot Springs. Find her online at angiemacri.wordpress.com