Karen Corinne Herceg © 2015 • Privacy Policy




The soul is anchored in that hollow space

probably about the size of a large hand

a space reserved

as in vast parking lots

still searching to be cleansed

with a sacrificial blood

neither alcoholic

nor medicinal

filtering the bowels

as comforting as holding a dead man.

The celibate spreads medieval palms

for clinking coins

feeding other mouths

housing souls.

Lines of rows and rows of lines of pews


in yellow, apostolic light

stained glass figures casting prisms

on such anointed heads

if they dare to kneel.


First Published in