Jesus Beach Towel

By Andrew Gent

They are selling Elvis
on black velvet and Jesus
(including the Last Supper)
on a beach towel
in the parking lot
of an abandoned clam shack
five miles from the shore.
Strung on clothes lines
between two telephone poles
for as little as five dollars a piece,
even the doubters among us
can be tempted. This is our last chance,
the sign says, to save big
or be saved. Although
the pair standing next
to the unmarked panel truck
don’t look much like
missionaries. Neither are we,
supplicants to anything
but commerce. Stopped
at the intersection
of nowhere and somewhere
else we never intended to go.
It’s Sunday morning.
And when the light turns green
we drive on, imagining
we have escaped
yet another test
for the congregation
that gathers at dawn
in parking lots
at the edge of the continent
to praise the waters
rising around us.

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Andrew Gent lives in New Hampshire. His first book of poetry is [explicit lyrics] from the University of Arkansas Press. Current work can be found in recent issues of the Carolina Quarterly, Red Wheelbarrow, Thin Air, and the Under Review.
Website: https://radiopoets.com
Blog: https://incrediblydull.blogspot.com
Social Media: https://mastodon.social/@AndrewGent