B e t t y  G e r s h k o f f
2:29 a.m.
I have been
baptized
into
the Church
of Perpetual Insomnia
where
the preacher
gesticulates
aWKwardly
with elbows and
knees but never says a
word,
the choir barks like a pack of dogs,
and when the plate is passed,
I stare into it
searching for darkness.
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