Sign Language in a Country Church

by Maya Clubine

At mass, a ringing endlessness is all
I hear inside my head. I watch the way
the Priest’s lips move to know what he might say,
or what was said; what’s next? I can’t recall. 
 
I’m questioning if we should overhaul 
the handiwork of God that’s gone astray.
I look up to the statues cast in clay –
their stilted features; their modelled shortfall.
 
And so, I listen only to the sound
of broken drums. I watch the way sun shines 
through glass work making colourful designs.
 
But when those signs of peace are offered round
I see you down the aisle hold out your hand
to cast a loving sign I understand. 

Maya Clubine is a writer based in Montréal, QC. She studied English Literature at the University of Waterloo, where she won the Albert Shaw Poetry Prize and the English Society Creative Writing for Poetry Award. Maya is an MFA candidate at the University of St. Thomas (TX), where she holds a Scanlan Fellowship. She has published in Bywords, The South Shore Review, Grand Little Things, and The Literary Review of Canada.

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