He fills the flower vases, trims the candle bases, takes small change 
from 
the poor box. Tyler has the key. He takes nail and hammer to tack up 
the 
banner of felt scraps glued together reading, "Jesus Lives In Me." 
Alone in 
the night he mocks the words of the preacher: "God is feeling your 
every pain." 
Repair the Christmas stable, restore the plaster angel. Her lips begin 
to 
crumble and her robes begin to peel. For Bible study in the church 
basement, 
hear children Gospel citing, Matthew 17:15. Alone in the night he 
mocks the 
arms of the preacher raised to the ceiling, "Tell God your pain." 
To him the world's defiled. In Lot he sees a likeness there; he swears 
this 
Sodom will burn down. Near Sacred Blood there's a dance hall where 
Tyler Glen 
saw a black girl and a white boy kissing shamelessly. Black hands on 
white 
shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know 
what's more. 
He's God's mad disciple, a righteous title, for th