Scott Waters
Release
From 10:00 to 10:30
the pastor sits with Mrs. Gallagher
in her Lysol-smelling condo
brushing Persian cats off his lap
listening to her impressive list
of physical complaints
and reminding her of the virtue
of forbearance
at 11:00 he calls on Mr. Lowhorn
and helps the octogenarian
to the toilet
and back to his brown recliner
in front of the blaring TV
while encouraging him to forgive
his ne'er-do-well brother
after a nice lunch at the diner
—chicken, mashed potatoes, pecan pie—
he visits with Mrs. Schwarzkopf
who lost her husband
two months before
and finds as always
that the best approach is silence
while she sniffles softly
in her L.L. Bean rocking chair
the rest of the afternoon
the pastor sits in his office
and works on his next sermon
"Charity Above All"
the words flowing easily
even profoundly
from his experienced hand
after dinner at the parsonage
he backs his Buick
out of the white garage
and drives an hour east
through the gunpowder blue dusk
to the nearest city
of any size
parks much further away
than expected
in a quiet neighborhood
of pink flamingo lawns
and bird baths
blends into the red-shirted,
red-hatted crowd
streaming into the arena
minutes later
he finds himself weeping
as the hot words take flight
from his contorted mouth
and join with the swirling legion
of enchanted black birds
echoing around the cavern
of concrete and steel:
"Lock. Her. Up."
