Epiphanies in Washington Square Park

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A shaggy-haired man walks past me in the heart of the park
Decked out in a t-shirt with Gothic font: “God loves sluts.”
Earlier in church two saints prayed for me while tears
Rivered my cheeks. The sun keeps nosing out
Of the clouds and somewhere in the park someone
Is contemplating ending things. I almost get hit
By a wiffle ball. A man is coaching three little boys
How to play baseball, and I thank God for him.
Elsewhere in the park, someone nudges open the door of prayer
For the first time. God loves sluts. For a moment through my fear
I feel him holding all things together.