prayers echo through the hollow of an empty cathedral

bouncing back in the motion of a projectile.

fingers wheel rosary beads as her tongue hits the

ceiling of her mouth releasing loud chants.

her eyes roll off the blasphemy she made against

the name of God when life baptized her in shame.


she turns to the altar for redemption,

burning incense to purge evil from her soul.

seeking redemption from the profligate lifestyle she

practiced in the name of deities who created

nothing but profanity wrapped in myths.


holy ghost holds a revival in her body — a museum

exhibiting iniquity.

she finds comfort in the halls of the cathedral —

an encyclopedia of answers renting coffins to host

a funeral for her demons.


the genocidal silence comes, overwhelming her

wailing and filling her soul with abundant joy.

she has found God in the cervix of the cathedral.


Semilore Kilaso is a writer who loves to collect photographs of humans, architecture, wildlife, and landscape. When she is not playing Scrabble or reading books, she is reading lines from architectural drawings. Her work appears in Cultural Weekly, Entropy, The Radical Art Review, nantygreens, and elsewhere. You can reach her on twitter @ooreola