In Memory of Corduroy

Scotland skies on a normal day
mock that gray corduroy skirt
I wore every Tuesday, Chapel Day,
when I was ten.

Chapel with its dim lights and songs and prayers
shadowed my friendlessness like a friend.
I fit in with Mary and Jesus
who also wore homemade dresses
and messy hair.

The stained glass masked my stained
corduroy skirt, and praising the Lord
lifted my heavy eyes right to the pulpit
across the altar into the baptismal.