Sunday Morning
By Susan King Saunders
street still sleep from sinnin’ saturday night
woman on her way to praise the lord
she wear that wide white church hat
tryin’ to shield her head from god
don’t know why she think he can’t see
into her cloaked and tellin’ mind
woman on her way to church
to sit in first pew
she goin’ to hear the word
she want to see pastor perform
she love to watch him move
across the pine platform
she smile with joy
today she feel the holy ghost
when preacher read the scripture
and gyrates to the pulpit
she’ll fall and flop
like fish before frying
her dress will rise
lust will drip from their eyes
the preacher will cry—glory! glory! glory!
and the church will say—Amen!
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