Glass Poetry Press

Volume Two Issue One

Carolynn Kingyens

Vacation Bible School

We sang songs in Vacation Bible School about how Jesus loved the little children of the world: Red and yellow, black and white they are precious in His sight, the song goes. And we sang songs about Father Abraham and his many sons, marching around the room in perfect unison we soldiers for Christ marching on towards heaven, towards sky. We drank Jim Jones-colored punch and ate no frills butter cookies; We finger painted Noah and his rescued animals: elephants, giraffes, their heads two at a time sticking out round holes — windows we created on paper in the brown-colored ark. We painted a bluish-green flood with bloated bodies sprinkled into swirls of aquamarine. For added drama, Paul Simmons drew a hand reaching out from under water like Peter did to Jesus when he started sinking, drowning because of his lack of faith. Years later, Timmy Ainsley shot himself in the mouth after he came out to his parents about his love for Paul Simmons. There was a rumor some blood and brain tissue landed on Timmy's Top Gun poster, the one where Tom Cruise mugs besides a motorcycle. And I heard little Regina Hopely, Bethel's Christmas Pageant Angel, became a meth addict, working down in Philadelphia, going down on the borough boys of Fishtown.