by Susan Francino
Rather weighed down by tone-deaf singing, the record of my own dead prayer, I emerge from the church —first to leave, fleeing—to find the end of a gleaming moment: a robin, basking in the sun on the warm concrete where the evening light has pooled. He startles and flies— but for a moment, a pool of warmth, a pool of stillness, for a moment, the end of all things
Susan Francino holds a BA in Latin from Hillsdale College and an MFA in Poetry from Seattle Pacific University. Her work has also appeared in The American Journal of Poetry.
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