The Miracles at St. Anne’s 

 

I wanted the ghosts of voiced bells

enough to paint the walls

in a double thick coat

that would stick to our fingers

when we tapped our hands

along the wall

to count

the Stations

of the Cross

and make sure there were still fourteen

and that we weren’t bleeding

patch the holes in our hands and feet

with spit and circling thumbs

 

we lifted our shirts to check our ribs

and tickled them with our eyes inspecting

 

on the playground in Sunday school

I put caterpillars on my hand

like limp pieces of yarn and let them crawl

towards the nail cliffs

Those are poisonous. You only have one day to live.

 

I stared at the golden box

and asked for my life back

wondering if God ever felt claustrophobic with no windows

turns out that kid was a liar

but I’m still waiting for an answer from God

about the windows

 

for a month a fish reflected on the wall above the pond

and then it disappeared

like the shadow of a cross that hovered on the host

 

I watched the spirit in the form of a bird

dip his wings in wine

and move through rings of bread

He straddled the line of vision and thought

swirling his tail on the back of my nose like a rattled goldfish

sneezing in prayer

 

You said the statue of Mary turned her head

once at the Christmas concert

maybe she remembered the time you took a swig from your holy water jug

and wiped your toddler mouth like a drunk man helpless

Amanda Pfeifer has a BS degree in Environmental Science from the University of Arizona. She is a singer-songwriter and poet residing in Tucson, Arizona, where she teaches at an elementary school.