St. Francis

We iced our bruises with otter pops
After the accident. I clutched my crucifix,
Shaking with adrenaline, stopped in the middle
Of the freeway in the rain. I keep

St. Francis in the pocket of my purse
For just such occasions—a gift from my
Mother with a prayer of protection on the
Back in small letters. St. Francis

Was never in a car crash. St. Francis was never in a car.
But he walked like we walk. He walked when
We walked, pacing the sidewalk of the underpass.
He walked in sun and rain, especially in rain.