abandoned

Harvey S. Mozolak

an old house

with sick skin

and wounded wood

surrounded by blooming bushes

lipstick reds kissing school goodbyes

and clashing purples

screen doors slamming bruised

behind children

a shape that quietly speaks of love

like a rusting bell

tongueless clapper long gone

left a mound of nails and beams

studs and rafters

that once held

now shuttered 

and peeling

in emptiness

white tab

Harvey S. Mozolak

a clergy shirt tab

frosted finger nail hold

of holiness 

only part of a whole halo

the forgiven past

hidden tucked into the shirt

of sin collared

and Donne