Potatoes

𝐀.𝐌.
Distain bled from
the studio mirror
Arial inherited,
from Aunt Janeen.

Her bulging thighs,
tattooed (one-inch blue-block letters):

𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙊𝙍𝘾𝙀𝘿
on one
𝙓-𝘾𝘼𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙇𝙄𝘾
on the other.
𝐏.𝐌.
An unexpected visit,
Fr. Flynn
(just call me Patrick),
a shoppin’ bag full of fresh potatoes – 
carrots too.

Small talk:
Here’s herself, Your mam, weather, 
Blue Jay’s best batter, his garden.

‘Parently, I’m not a good Catholic.

Flynn,
genuinely surprised!

Can I say,
Ariel?

Early this spring I buried potatoes in the garden,
they died,
now, 
all these fresh potatoes!!!

There’s not two kinds of Catholics,
first-class and second,
just one kind: 

baptized. 


Readings for Sunday May 2nd
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