The year was 1987, the year
my faith was lowered into
the Pennsylvania clay
alongside my Pappy.
Sometimes I still check
my back pocket, or
maybe it's crushed with
mints in the bottom of my purse.
People question less and less
what happened to it.
As the years go by,
so do I, without.
The truth is that my
faith was buried in
a Catholic cemetery,
mingling with the mud.
Or maybe the worms
went hungry when
they realized how
very small it was anyway.
