Issue 14
Salvation at the Book Fair

All the available thoughts
have already been thought.

All the words put together
into every possible combination.

What more is there to say?

This is a comfort. Salvation:
protected from harm.

When I enter the room,
altars everywhere.

Long tables draped
with the colors of liturgy:

purple for the kings who run the fair.
Blue for the school that can make of you

a priest of words. Green
for beginnings – Jesus

risen from the dead,
the hard work over?

Every book is a prayer,
and just as in church I want

to pray the prayers of others
rather than my own –

Almighty and most merciful father/
so much depends upon/those things

which I ought to have done.

There must be something more to say.
Make it new, I am instructed. But

when I put my pen to paper only
the words of others arrive.

Salvation: preservation.
There is nothing new under the sun.

This is not a church. Still, I hold
my breath. Tread lightly. Look for the poem,

the one that will save me.