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The Chapel

By Caitlyn Hunter
I stumble in, feet close together
scuffing the burlap carpet
I pull down my scratchy skirt
when the people in pews look their way
the light in the chapel is yellow
the air hangs heavily
they breathe it in and out as
they sing songs in all holy brightness
my hands hold hymns
I look up at the dusty glare
as I quietly slip off my saddle shoes
as my skirt makes its way up my ribcage