the bells toll
from the musty tower
in the center of town
the brass behemoths
sending a resounding wave
of dischordiant warning
echoing
through the empty streets

a small child
lays huddled
beneath his bed
shaking in fear
as the alarms clang
in a thunderous chorus

the congregation gathers
in the marble ossuary
of accumulated prayer
hoping to add
a new calcified plea
to the emptiness
that consumes them
from within
a cancer
that has filled this pulpit
of inner desire
with a demand for satisfaction
unbidden
unearned
and unanswered

a simple
salve of salvation
draped in
succulent sorrows
lavished with
sinuous sins

so self involved
as the first hints
of the storm
announces itself
they continue on
as if the storm
that comes from on high
in the atmosphere
is still beneath
their notice