Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

The Bastard of St. Henry

The bells of St. Henry are ringing.
I hear them echo in the hills,
across the yard,
and into my window.
I am not Catholic
but I still like hearing them.
They sound celebratory
and remind me to remember the glory of life
when I have forgotten.
I imagine rich fancy weddings
and births,
and funerals of great men and women.
I see black limos,
and white dresses,
Priests dressed in their finest cloth,
and children running on the church lawn.
I have only been there once,
when my friend Sue’s husband died.
What a bastard he was.