Age of Accountability

At tent revival
I sat on folding
metal chair and daydreamed
while the pastor
brought Jesus down
with the sunset,
lit parishioners’ souls on fire.

My mother would
tap my knee sometimes,
tell me to pay attention
to the sermon that flew
over my head like
a flock of frightened
sparrows.

Spirit world flailing
around us, olive oil
crosses on foreheads
burning sin out heathens,
and altars crowded
with sweaty-browed backsliders.

Tear-streaked
cheeks, tongues
taken by angels,
and knees pressing
summer grass;
God’s wrath
reckoning.