Poem 3 ± November 3, 2016

Tom Capelonga
Prayer of Saint Francis

Or tell it to the angel
there beside you in his briefs

who holds you like host in
the palm of his hand and

asks no more than that you
whisper light into his wounds—

how knees split open in our
haste to distance bad beginnings

how we enlist the boys to take
up arms against us unaware

and cast ourselves unworthy
of their weaponized affections.

Let’s set aside our crosses
and consider gentler crowns.

The past won’t find us tucked
away in this Eureka valley.

We’ll keep the lamps lit
looking after one another’s shadow

and make ourselves a channel of
the peace that’s been denied us.


Tom Capelonga

Tom Capelonga

Tom Capelonga is a native of New York City. His poems have appeared in FourTwoNine Magazine, Podium, and Lambda Literary.