Sunday Best

A toilet with a closed lid.

I become that misfit chick

in church, sing praises out of tune

smiling, upraised face

I feel so free.

Oh, Lord, you’re beautiful

Your face is all I seek

My attention focused above.

For when your eyes are on this child

Your grace abounds to me

Hear the screams

of daddy issues being slaughtered.

But something is so broken

that same face

is staring down the throat

of a yawning toilet bowl

by Tuesday.

That’s more like it.

Thursday if it’s a good week.