My Grandmother loves cussing
she loves laughter, and artwork,
she used to be a Nun
and her Catholicism runs as thick and deep as the veins of coal beneath the city.
When the pope was named, she wept for joy
"A progressive! There is still good in the church!"
The dinner she made that night,
Kielbasa, pirogies,
my atheist parents sat by nervously.
My Grandmother cares not for your faith, though
she cares for your soul.