This is a poem from a larger project I am working on called These, My Streets, a series of poems about the streets of my neighbourhood. I recently submitted this one to a poetry group for feedback, so I might as well post it here for more general feedback as well. It’s about Dublin Street, which is where I live, a street that runs up behind Church of Our Lady, the building that characterizes Guelph’s skyline.
I see you creeping up the hill
behind Our Sacred Lady’s church,
where you peer through her skirt of trees,
like a child beneath a table
to spy the colour of her panties,
not white, I’d wager, not cotton
or high-waisted or matronly,
not after two millennia
of perpetual virginity,
more likely something scandalous,
that says, in no uncertain terms,
I wouldn’t mind a bit of fun
before the rapture takes us.