Woes Rise

Woes Rise

Is it a good hour for praying?
Aren’t my hands folded right?
The face of your boy rubs the pad of my thumb

The corpus knows just what I’m saying
Here, in the golden dark, smoking
Woes in tendrils rise to

Cause a watching spider to cough
Upon his hidden wagon-wheel
In my not-so-secret chamber.

~ S.K. Orr