After Palm Sunday
Led away to your passion, you said: if
this is what happens when the wood is green,
what will happen when it is dry?
What will happen? The flames
will take hold of the roof. The spire,
an architectural masterpiece,
will become a firework, the structure
exploding, shattering into pieces, the cross
tumbling into the nave like a sparkler.
The faithful will stand by and sing canticles
that will break your heart, they will sing
prayers for their Church on fire.
The roof and spire will incinerate, the blaze
so hot that the wood is consumed
before it can litter the cathedral floor.
What exalts itself will combust
and collapse, but the main structure,
the foundation, the stone—you will remain.
Laura Reece Hogan’s new volume of poetry is called Butterfly Nebula (Backwaters Press).