Black ink and sunbeams poetry

Dogma, unyielding,

manifests, a scarlet letter

leveraged down,

from the pulpit, in the schoolyard,

through the radio on the mantle by

his dining room table

history, white-washed,

forms a circle,

the red-caps, filling the streets,

nail hope to a tree and

claim God exists within our tears

my words,

overlooked, escape the pyre,

your body, yours no longer

lays itself down,

between the lines, in the ashes,

upon my page