Snow in Watts

Enough tar had spilled on to the rooftops
to divide the city of Watts into a hamlet
far enough away to raise hope that we were safe

degree always mattered to the righteous
and righteous was always a matter of degree
as the first snow fell in godly boundaries,

the self-righteous pointed at the divide they believed
would always keep them safe and
for those whose hope took form in metaphor,
hail stormed down in a pattern of prayers
answered in the songs from St. Bridgett's choir

miracles were always a matter of degree and on that day
miracles made their icy debut
in shapes so calculated that even the we wondered
if music and prayer weren't as mighty as the
belief that distance would always keep them safe