Mom played organ in Church,
“Yield not to Temptation,”
a choir fave. This yielding not
had great cache, depending on
the sin. Adultery? Nope!
Don’t yield. They seemed not to,
the worn adults, the few young newlyweds.
But racism? Oh, how they yielded
just to yield some more. Members
traded recipes for fixing homosexuals—
fry, fricassee, or boil—
and eat. But don’t eat every part
or, well, you might be tempted
to yield–the organ can’t soften
God’s crabby voice–
“You kill my son each time
you yield.” I didn’t mean to kill
anyone. The house just fell
out of the sky. We cowered
home to our white dinner tables,
and finally went out to play.