“1964” by Lorie Ann Grover
1964
I am born under
the bony arch of his
white steepled fingers,
spidered on the pulpit
of smothering scriptures,
parroted and puffed past
the encroaching mustache,
above self-satisfied pats
to a jerked-up waist
of holy polyester.
I am baptized and rolled
under the descending heel
of self-righteous
white patent leather
and crunched.
Photo Credit: Staff