VERONICA'S VEIL
Veronica, instead, please be my veil, and shield
me from my enemies while I leave a trace behind.
A gunpowder smattern, an image like a ghost. How
many years later, all things transpire in quiet. Even
now, I never knew you, but they still chatter on about
your veil and the image and all of what you'd done.
The Shroud of Turin has nothing on you. Like a piece
of the true cross being used for a toothpick, all is
happenstance and all is blather. Every seat in this
chapel is filled with entreaties to Veronica's veil.
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