Glass: A Journal of Poetry 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.