-Carol Came to the Grotto-

It sat in the backyard

just outside the vegetable garden's fence.

there seemed to be five of them on every block,

and there was a real good one on Linden Street.

ours was destroyed by hurricane Carol
when it lifted and slammed the vertical bathtub
into the chicken coop built by my grandfather.
Mary, (the mother of God) went along for the ride.

my grandmother grabbed her rosary beads
to ward off the wind, but it was too late.

when Carol ebbed, the chalky nuggets 
of Mary's remains were gathered, briefly

examined by the men of the family, 
then respectfully disposed of, but not before I nabbed
a good-sized chunk for myself to grace the sidewalk

on Bedford with original drawings, street-side near the sewer.

I was too young to form conclusions from the forensics 

although the women of the family agreed that the bathtub
should have been set more securely into the ground.

the coop's occupants were spared the inevitable axe, succumbing
to Carol's insatiable appetite for my grandfather's chickens.

the great Intercessor lost her head on September 6, 1954,

but in the drying period of the following days, its surviving

chunk of plaster enabled my early hand to produced some fine

secular cartoons for the consideration of neighborhood passersby.

Quequechan