by Jason Myers

For the girl groups of the 1960s
I give you praise. Their love-haunted joy
hurled, pled & pitched in perfect harmonies
puts a spell on me & my light-climbed days.
Ronettes, Vandallas, Shangri-Las alloy
the forlorn, odd, unexpected delights
of rejected boys & Saturday nights.
Though their cares appear small, I hear in each
aria about breaking up, going
steady the sum total of what we need,
why we’re made. To matter. To reach
into the dark, the hurt, the dumb – knowing
our failed flesh is your means of grace. You feed
us music, milk, holy bread, holy blood.

Jason Myers eats strawberries for breakfast and edits EcoTheo Review. He parents and partners in central Texas where he is a candidate for holy orders in the Episcopal Church.