the pastor prattles on
and i nod off as my
phone shudders in the
pocket of my jeans

i fish it out
during the brief
interim where
everyone obediently
closes their eyes and
bows their heads
victims for a hungry
guillotine

the screen alights with
her name just as i
suspected and i voraciously
read the rough draft of the
poem she's just sent me  

the clock stops in the middle
of two separate seconds
i ruminate over the illuminated text
on screen digesting feminine
intentions between intermittent
glances to see if anyone's noticed
how even Father Time
paused to read her lyrics

i'd read dozens of excerpts
penned by her generous hands
sonnets wreathed in somber cadences
spoken word blistering with brazen passion
and compassionate pleas beseeching
all who'd listen to thaw cold hearts
and take heed of the lost
and lonely masses but
i never read something where
she referenced me

alas
the piece was
brief
and i can't help
but think i am
one of her many
footnotes

and the sick and subtle
tragedy is that she
instigates my exposition
rises in each action
and catalyzes every
climactic conclusion