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Kate Light

Three girls in peach dresses are sprinkled
in front of a congregation, mostly visitors
fidgeting in once-a-year suits and pastels
and we all read promises from hymnals
Will you be a family of believers
to these new daughters of Christ?
We will, say the visitors.
A restless boy behind me breathes
Uh uh. No way am I ever doing this shit
to his brother, and I am grateful.
Who are you going to call
in your times of need?
The pastor asks,
and someone in the back
whispers, Ghostbusters.
Thank god for heathens like me.
I was raised in these wooden seats
and now on Easter Sunday all I can think
is how easy it would be to shave
my white leg if I stretched it out
over the pew in front of me.