Teresa White

MAPLE STREET IS NOT THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS

Saul or Paul.  I can never keep
the name straight, not even
when I read about the light that broke
from ordinary clouds and blinded him.

Territorial robins chatter in the trees
as I pin up sheets in the lilac air.
Of course it’s spring and once again
I want a miracle though surely the tulip’s
red-cupped head is cause for prayer.

If God’s voice boomed from the sky
I’m sure I’d believe, but all I get is the sound
of wheels on Maple Street and I, mute,
with clothespins in my teeth.

Location:	Spokane Washington
Email:	Whiteheart_1998@yahoo.com
Website:	http://members.tripod.com/~whiteheart2/index.html
Publications:	Conspire, Eclectica, Eye Dialect, Mandrake Press, Pierian Springs, Rattle, Slow Trains, Snow Monkey, Small Spiral Notebook, Tryst, Stirring, , etc.
Book:	In What Furnace?
Awards:	Pushcart Prize nominee

- May 2003 - The Runners In Any Other Sky My Night On Letterman The Museum of Holds Seoul - Midmorning If I Am Depressed Then Let Me Be Depressed. the other night bobby came to work in drag Finding God in a Deserted Parking Lot The Chain Bridge shepherding Between Seasons Maple Street Is Not The Road To Damascus