As Mine Eyes Swelled
Preacher-man locked eyes like the
devil himself
had climbed through an ajar window,
selected
the furthest pew from the pulpit he
could find and
settled in for a listen what the
God-man had to say.
Least that’s how his stare felt, like
I were Legion
about to be cast into a herd of
swine, forced
off a cliff and into the ocean to
drown, them demons
who been warring on me this life; he
just stared,
while talking but I couldn’t hear,
something start
of the service announcing I gathered,
pleading
silent with my own eyes he relent his
gaze ‘fore
the rest of the congregation turned
‘round for a look.
Not sure what even I was doing here
once more
having never before been in a church
that felt like:
home, this time sure feeling
something quite
the opposite as well; preacher just
kept staring—
Andrew Lafleche
Andrew Lafleche is the award-winning poet and
author of No
Diplomacy, Ride, and Spring Summer, Winter,
Fall. His work uses spoken
style language to blend social criticism,
philosophical reflection,
explicit prose, and black comedy. Following his
service as an infantry
soldier in the Canadian Armed Forces, Lafleche
received an M.A. in
Creative and Critical Writing from the
University of Gloucestershire. He
lives on a farmstead in the Bonnechere Valley.
Please visit
www.AndrewLafleche.com or follow @AndrewLafleche on
Twitter for more
information.