CONVENT MUSINGS

Eleven thousand white-faced virgins in the sky.

The eyes of Our Lady

Smiling through a rift of cloud.

I see Sister Maria da Gloria's fat shadow

Pass across the whitewashed wall by the window....

Eleven thousand white-faced virgins —

Stars from a broken rosary —

The Southern Cross —

Thrum, thrum, my fingers on the bench.

I sometimes think of God

As an enormous emptiness

Into which we must all enter at last,

Our Lady forgive me.