Campmeeting

I climbed the field-stones

That perforated the edge of the patchy

Worn lawn

In front of the white

Barn-like tabernacle

I was too restless to sit inside on the

Slatted pine benches

My feet wouldn't reach the gray

Concrete floor

But through the wide screens

I could see paper fans

Like whitecaps

In a sea of beehive hairdos

The ebb and the flow of the

Evangelist's prose

Distorted the tinny speakers

Mounted under the eaves

For those

On blankets and lawn chairs

Preferring the breeze to the

Shoulder by shoulder press

Of the faithful

Basting in suits and long dresses

I knew the crescendo

The song leader rose

The organ began with

“Just As I Am”

The fisher of men cast

His net

Between verses

Every head bowed and every eye

Closed

I knew that the song would be sung

One more time

Then the screen door would yawn

And soon we'd be walking the black-oiled

Dirt road

To the snack bar for sherbet

Under the yellow floodlight