sunday morning | payson, utah 1968

For my Advanced Poetry Writing class we are collaborating with a graphic designer and an illustrator to create and print books. This has been one of the most rewarding projects I have worked on in a long time. I was very lucky and ended up with Danelle as my graphic designer and an amazing illustrator. I can't wait to see the finished product and have my first "published" work in my hands.
I've been writing from old photographs, so we've aptly named my book and my lyrical sequence (final project for ENGL 4010) "Faking Nostalgia." This is the last poem I wrote for the book and one of my middle poems for my sequence. 

Sunday Morning
Payson, Utah  1968

While cleaning up the breakfast dishes,
You watched me from the kitchen window
As I walked slowly across the street
To the mint julep church,
    The same church where I was blessed,
    Baptized, and prayed every Sunday
    For fourteen years,

In new white pumps and my Easter dress with
Your ivory cardigan draped across my arm,
The same arm that clutched a book of God’s words,
Words I’d told you I wasn’t sure believed anymore,
Right before you’d kissed me on the forehead
And sent me out the door
Fifteen paces behind my brother,
in a starched white shirt and his daddy’s tie.

Repeating do as I say, not as I do,
When I asked you why you weren’t going this time.
And when I looked back, from the middle of the street,
Just to catch you watching me,
You had to avert your eyes to the scalding, soapy water
And pretend not to see me keep walking down the sidewalk.
Past the church.