In honor of the Vatican decision not to remove child abusing priests after all (as reported by NPR), I present the following Sharon Olds poem:
It hangs deep in his robes, a delicate
clapper at the center of a bell.
It moves when he moves, a ghostly fish in a
halo of silver seaweed, the hair
swaying in the dark and the heat-and at night,
while his eyes sleep, stands up
in praise of God.
It turned out that Kacy and Angie were there, but we just never met up. I saw Kacy on the phone, looking pensive, but she was the only person in the bar I didn't ask about being a blogger (hey! it's a college town and she looks like a student!) I don't think I'll be joining any more Meet-up meetings, but I will meet with my fellow Phoenix bloggers somewhere in the future. Just not at Stickysquach.
