What's the matter? Are you OK? only my fifth call home in eleven years
I'm leaving the seminary, said out loud for the first time impossible to breathe back in those fatal words rehearsed for three weeks afraid to break her heart six months from the altar of God her only son offering Mass just for her to pass through the gates of heaven repay her for all those years she lugged bushel upon bushel of other people's wash into her home bought a mangle burned her right hand ironing faster and faster to keep me out of Ford's River Rouge foundry
Did you lose your vocation? Lose? like I lost those wool gloves she sent me for Christmas? lose as if I actually owned it? lose forever never to find again?
I'm just not cut out for this life ain't that the truth nothing but the truth certainly not the whole truth silence about the vote cast by all the priests brothers seminarians in perpetual vows three spare no's lined up behind the first black ball