St. Antoninus
Third Place, Jane Greer Memorial Poetry Contest 2026
I made a pilgrimage to the church where my grandfather was baptized.
What good it did, I do not know. A woman named Maria
sat in front of me alone with a torn
backpack and many bags filled with more bags.
Supported by mud-stained Sketchers, she carried a cruet of wine
behind a group of African women who danced bread up the aisle
before it all changed.
A week ago, a man on the bus handed me his transfer slip
before exiting. Along with it, a holy card.
“I hate people like that,” crowed the New Yorker next
to me, “Religious people are horrible—all about control.”
What I didn’t say was that I love people
like that. The ones who in small, quiet ways remind us the world
is enchanted and will also give you free transfer slips on the bus.
When the Gospel was read the bag lady gave out a loud guffaw
when she heard the line: “Satan fell from the sky
like lightning.” I lit a candle for my grandpa and then ate breakfast
with Maria and the Kenyans and a woman everyone called
Sister Eileen who claimed she wasn’t a nun
and I wished that like me
he was seeing something so beautiful
he couldn’t turn away.