My Sabbath Ends Earlier Than Yours

My Sabbath ends earlier than yours.
Faith leaks from the seams; before sundown,
the seventh day has become the same
as the sixth. It is like falling out of love,
God’s glamour dissolves into the walls
of the house, the trees on the lawn,
the tired and hot children,
until I am all alone –
alone with my self, the person I started with.
Where it began rises in my throat.
How such an edifice can be made of belief!

My Disbelief Is

a thermal crack in the
path; something to
skirt

and step around,
looking over
my shoulder, under
my elbow,

down the thin abyss.
Patient company,
my disbelief is
a light tabby

that slips alongside,
and the cautious flow
of her green eyes;

something that bends
toward the doorway
like sunlight’s
passive vigilance,

brings me to the park
at dusk
in the summer

to watch shade
stretch across children,
and hear

their voices
echo after
striking brick.