Accepted for publication by
Schuylkill Valley Journal Of The Arts

Night Prayers to Guadalupe
            "No estoy yo aqui que soy tu madre?" 
 
Gaudalupe, Guadalupe, all my clocks have different times
the walls drip with the indifference of miraculous vision
each shadow a waiting demon.
 
O Fatima, the drone of your rosary scars my throat
if faith is the unseen made visible
what are these fears
this madness layered in all the many layered creation?
 
Lourdes, unknown mother of strength and
bewilderment, I too have dreamt God in my severed hands:
the memory of each nailed to a different cross.
 
this madness visits me, miracles cannot survive the lengthening
night, votives, novenas, the rituals of superstitious hope-filled
prayer as if we could summon or protect, as if we knew, 
 
this prayer, this twisted doubt-filled incoherent prayer of faith
is an old man's winked conceit, a child's reflexive trust, a wish
we wish upon ourselves, O Mother of God…
 
Gaudalupe, Guadalupe, all my clocks have different times
Guadalupe, come, hold me till sunrise.