A Church
A Church
Out of the noonday rush
I ducked into an anti-church
And entered the anti-hush.
I anti-crossed myself
And walked up the anti-aisle
To the anti-altar
Where you must be
Expecting me to say that
I found the anti-Christ.
But He was Him.
Through His hands and feet
Anti-stakes had been driven.
He hung upon an anti-cross.
Just then an anti-priest
Came out of the anti-sacristy
And asked me if
He could help me.
I told him no, meaning
He couldn’t help me.
In that whole place, the only thing
Holy were His eyes.