All that is left
Dedicated to John Forbis OHC
All that is left,
as the white-robed monks bow and turn,
passing with the shuffle and creak of foot on wooden floor,
as man and woman follow,
one by one taking reverent leave,
Rumpled altar cloth;
empty cup and plate.
Smoke of snuffed candles
to the holy space;
like bread and wine in human bodies.
Dust motes drift;
A lightpull sways by the wall, and just
one strand of spider silk adorns the corner.
The high windows breathe wintery light
into the shadowed vault;
the walls hold wide their arms