Sonnet: Gargoyem Cells
by John Kendall Hawkins
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O find me in the Jesus cathedral
full of sunny love streaming through stained glass,
storied stations of crossbeamed light that pass
from prism to prism in medieval
genuflection. Until a cell phone rings
and prayer is paused, waiting for silence
to return, but Carol gabs in defiance
and we never do get back to First Kings.
The gargoyles who guard our naves and apses,
themselves forbidden to enter and see
the transverse splendor of the holy tree,
must feel glumstricken by our human lapses.
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