Tiny soldiers hunt in her Sunday shoes
Rummaging to find the one who had fallen behind
blinded by giants feet that pushed through another dimension

and crushed his eyes

and the bell rang for Sunday school

She prays for forgiveness with evidence smooshed
within the cracked toenails of dancer feet
blood covers the scene of the crime
vacant of a chalk outline

because she arabesques instead of plies
a mistake that she constantly made.

A parade unmoving to passerbys trudges in the absence of worker ant
number thirty five

And the supper bell rings