Two Years in the Life: My Time as Tacoma's Poet Laureate

It's a Sunday morning in Pennsylvania. How could I not write this?

MYSTIFICATION

while praying
after mass
the Virgin Mary
in her baby blue
cloak and
pearl colored veil
leans down
reaches
over a bank
of lit candles
to touch me gently
on one shoulder
her lips like
a cut strawberry
she straightens
to brush a lock
of hair off her
china doll face
and whispers
excuse me
ma’am
I hate to
disturb you but
don’t you think
oh don’t you think
Jane Austen
could be
my twin?