Ave Maria
Our Lady
Queen of Peace, New Jersey
Sunday
Morning
1969
She is
dressed in flowing blue robe. I sweat in an itchy white nylon
communion
frock, feeling like a fraud.
Even at age
six, I knew there was something wrong
with
coveting Our Lady’s rhinestone crown.
Oh! how I
wanted it, I imagined the weight
of it, how
it would sparkle when I turned this way and that.
I plotted
ways I could sneak out of my grandparent’s house,
dodging
behind hedge and tree. Running the half a block
to the
little church where, dressed as a miniature bride I first
received the wafer. It tasted of cardboard and went instantly limp.
I had a moment of panic when it became lacquered
to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t prise it loose with my tongue.
to the roof of my mouth and I couldn’t prise it loose with my tongue.
There was
nothing I could do except wait miserably for it to dissolve,
wishing I
owned that crown, pretty sure I was going to hell.
I realized years
later it was probably made of cornstarch.
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