Summer begins
shedding stress by
lusting for Father Ralph
I become Meggie
slipping into heartbreak
reliving my own devotion
veiling my Catholic guilt under Italian lace
missal clutched in small, white-gloved hand
crystal Rosary, blessed by Pius XII,
soothing my restless fingers
his Irish brogue a supple song
his blue eyes like laughter
he kneels before me, eye-to-eye
proposes a date
he’ll be my father—
a surrogate breaking bread
erasing my disappointment
drying my tears with his finger tips
tugging my hand to the crook of his arm
his brilliance dazzles me
my heart worships him
Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
Every summer, to "come down" from the stress of the school year, I'd retreat into The Thorn Birds for a week. I'd either dust off the novel and reread it, or I'd pull down the series. Either way, the hours spent with these characters put distance between me and my work.
