Mixed Up.

Mixed Up

   never knew i came
   from a mixed marriage.
   thought a mixed marriage
   meant black and white,
   not baptist and catholic.

   alternating churches every week
   i was afraid of the baptist church.
   afraid i'd catch what they had
   that made the fall on the floor
   like in seizures and talk in tongues.

   as tambourines pounded
   and church ladies danced in the isles,
   i plugged my ears and closed my eyes
   afraid to look
   afraid of catching it.

   you could hear a pin drop
   in the catholic church,
   even with the big cathedral ceilings.
   as the organ lady played songs
   only the priest could sing,
   i yawned as i picked the lent from my socks.

   spent all morning in the baptist church,
   sometimes staying past lunch.
   gathering in the basement for social hour,
   i watched as church ladies wiped
   water from their brows
   with hankies they kept
   between big sweaty breasts.

   stayed an hour in the catholic church.
   speaking to no one because
   that's how civilized folks
   are supposed to act in church.

   learned about being saved
   in the baptist church.
   a claim made by many,
   but a behavior displayed by few.
   learned about penance
   in the catholic church.
   5 Hail Marys no matter what the sin.

   felt out of place in church.
   bouncing from one to the other,
   unable to commit to either.