Service
Sydney Holley
Sunday mornings are for
Church I just remembered
as Mr. Turquoise or Mr. Aqua,
whichever catches the eye more-
he removed his shoes at the
door, cleansing them of the dirt
and grime on the bottom before
entering the holy house on
second street.
This was pure repentance,
a polite gesture on his part.
I’ve only seen this baby blue house
of God strung out from the
alleyways, salience in these proverbs
And designer drugs, a scarlet A
On my blouse. I’m already not
wearing undergarments, it’s
impurity and debauchery at best
and autumn trees without fruit are
among us.
We know this from Jude
and the preaching of restoration and
preservation.
The world is not for
you to abuse, I read:
Solemnize Sabbath Day
even if you can not recall last night
or the one before
All you know is that it’s been a little
chilly outside. There is-
No god before me.
No god before me, never take the
name in vain and that’s what Mr.
Turquoise or Mr. Aqua believed.
We are saved if we sip our Sunday
wine and cleanse our shoes at the door