CONFESSION FROM 1967
by Ken Pobo
Pastor Landy’s voice
reminds me of wind sliding
through corn. I mumble sing—
when he says “Turn to page…”
I’m turning
to The Beatles. No Broadman
songwriters ever met Sgt. Pepper.
I sneak a hymnal away
from church, tear out
several hymns, set them
on fire, deeply breath in
the smell. Surely Landy
considers this a sin—
one that I’d commit again.
Posted on August 8th 2023