Our Christian (A Sestina)

In the dark,
she sits alone. She smells
incense. Hears the sound of a child’s laugh.
Grabs the rosary
from her pocket. It’s a sign,
she thinks. Blood

rushes to her head. For the life of the flesh is in the blood,
the preacher says in his dark
voice. She notices a sign
on the altar: BEWARE. Her perfume smells
like musk. As she fingers her rosary,
she forces a laugh—

her Momma’s laugh.
Mother Mary, who wept blood.
Momma, who gave her that rosary
ten days before falling asleep in the dark.
She visits Momma daily, smells
her decay, and understands it’s a sign

that Momma’s getting better. But Linda held the pen. Sign
here, Linda said. Linda smiled, but did not laugh.
Our Christian Funeral Home contains many smells,
Linda explained. Embalming fluid, copper, blood,
silver, nickel, death— She thinks of Linda and lets the dark
red beads of the rosary

drop to the Church floor. Fifty-nine prayers of the rosary
scatter. The preacher, holding Christ’s wine, falls and pulls down the altar sign.
Did it say BEWARE OF DOG? She didn’t know, it was too dark.
When he falls, the People laugh.
The altar is stained with His blood,
as well as the preacher’s, and now the Church smells.

She said, One day in a field of fifty-nine daisies, with smells
of pollen and sounds of bee’s wings, I will pray my mother’s rosary.
My temples will feel the pulse of my Saviour’s blood.
The heavenly clouds will give me a sign.
Joyous, I will laugh
and chase away the Devil in the dark.

She likes the way the blood of the Holy Ghost smells.
She searches in the dark for the fallen beads of her broken rosary.
She can read the sign now: BEWARE OF GOD. Where is the child’s laugh?