Intent
A poem upon the death of Pope Francis
Upgrade to paid to play voiceover
Intent
Intent is of no consequence.
Placed strategically or not,
the word is there,
like a hungry child’s
swollen ankle after
twisting in loose gravel,
or small palms
torn open to taste
the sacrament outside
the clay church wall.
My friend, my enemy,
my hungry child,
my back is turned.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to The First Person with Michael Judge to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.