And this morning they are still there

On the sidewalk, still and staring in

At me, skinny boy and girl holding

Hands, joined in some conspiracy

In which I seem to have some part

To play, but for now only the object

Of their vigil, their patience religious.

The prayer perhaps of my neighbor's

Sweet evangelical child who fears for

My salvation; rite and ritual, visitation

And intercession, her child-like faith

By which even I might yet be saved.

But not today, not the savior's blood,

Chalk dust staining the rain red.