Our Lady's

They call me Our Lady's
 My arms cold and cinder block
 No one wanted to be here
 They toppled the gates with their eyes closed
 I was home to the chefs and the thieves
 And the drunks, and the babies out of wedlock
 Now I stand here, cold and alone
 Awakened by the wind in the doorway
 The little girl in the churchyard
 Laughing her way her way through the sermon
 The one with the violin
 I watched her with great admiration
 Her daddy, they brought him to me
 For the drink, he loves it still
 She has a tune to play for me
 But they've made it so much harder to get in here
 There is something cold
 A blank wall can destroy you
 It made everyone so quiet
 And I dream of crumbling
 So strongly my pipes burst
 And the walls fill with water
 The quarantine beds and the chamber
 To spill out
 And be cleaned from the inside
 Like sound, like waves
 Leave a song on my walls
 They'll shed themselves when the prisons spill open
 Months of stagnant thick fruit from the womb
 It rattles and shakes when the valve bursts
 There have been glimpses
 Into my quiet moments
 The hose just flowing in the afternoon
 And on Sundays
 I am entirely still
 There is joy there