the left hand of a crucified god

Nothing but anticipation rises
with highways stacked for a city
ten times the size of this. Roads were
on the ground when passersby
expected to pause for what they
found there. Now they float
among church steeples so travelers
anxious for elsewhere can pass over
in-between. Most drivers have no idea
how close they come to the left hand
of a crucified god where that steeple
brushes the Interstate. His head bows
over empty pews that still recall west
sun through stained glass before
the road to Dallas cast its shadow.
© Steven Schroeder

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