Dec 28, 2010

Our Lady of the Electrical Substation

Written by Jeffrey Schultz

Read by Joshua Robbins

He'd been a tourist in churches, there for a look at the glass 
      and a half-hearted pang of the sublime beneath vaulted ceilings,

But there was always the fickering silhouette of some woman 
      who prayed over a candle she'd lit; then the guilt

Of the faithless would usher him out to afternoon's heat-
      dazzled streets. After the corner store's worn linoleum

And six pack, he wondered if he could feel anything holy 
      given years of the nightly news's nightly war, given 

His wife's retelling of her days working with abused 
      and molested children. So when he came across these

Beautiful, deadly coils risen up toward heaven and the power 
      lines that converged in a perfect cage to hold it back,

He couldn't explain the current that ran through him, 
      except to say the hum of it, the substation's carcinogenic

Psalm, seemed to cycle at the same rate as the soul, 
      which stirred slightly from its hibernation

In the unpainted apse at the back of its hermetic cell.