St. Marks

Last time I was in this church, you were alive
And I sat next to my teacher, who cried
And two women were united
in love
By a priest and a poet,
and the words of a poet gone.

Oh, we watched from the rafters
as the city streamed in,
and a host swept the floor
of flowers
The arranged congregation
preparing to sing,

We gathered our hands

with our hearts

in our chests,
We observed what it means
to belong.