by Jeffrey Essmann | February 26, 2025 1:00 am
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This week’s poem in the Catholic Poetry Room is by Tim Bete.
Black and White
The Holy Hour was a server short,
Pressed into service by the Deacon there,
Into a cassock, arms and neck contort,
The surplice, over head, messed up my hair.
It’d been five decades since I had last served.
Carrying censor as the thurifer,
I wished I’d paid attention and observed
Past servers but my mind was just a blur.
We sang the Salutaris while we knelt,
And prayed in adoration for a while.
The polyester cassock itched my neck,
Then a thought made me break into a smile:
I felt quite strange, a brown-wool Carmelite
In starker Dominican black and white.
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