by Lorraine Caputo

One chill Saturday morning 
      I hear a man praying 
            to the Virgin Mary 
                              Holy Mother of God 
                              Holy Virgin of virgins 
                              Mother of Christ 
I open my windows 
      & look to the street below 
                              Mother of divine grace 
                                    Pray for us 
                              Mother most pure 
                                    Pray for us 
Where he is walking 
      right hand up-raised 
                              Mother most chaste 
                                    Pray for us 
                              Mother inviolate 
                                    Pray for us 
The responses to his litany 
      softly murmured 
                              Mother undefiled 
                                    Pray for us 
                              Mother most amiable 
                                    Pray for us 
Behind, his wife 
      carries a cross draped 
            with blue-white ribbon 
Their daughter carries 
      a gilded glass box 
            with the Virgin 
                              Mother most admirable 
                                    Pray for us 
                              Mother of good counsel 
                                    Pray for us 
& up on Panecillo hill 
      the winged Virgin is lost 
            in the new-day fog 
                              Mother of our Creator 
                                    Pray for us 

Lorraine Caputo is a documentary poet, translator and travel writer. Her works appear in over 300 journals on six continents; and 20 collections of poetry — including On Galápagos Shores (dancing girl press, 2019) and Caribbean Interludes (Origami Poems Project, 2022). She journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her travels at: or

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