‘hood
on montague

We sit by the window like priests in the confessional, listening to the litany of steam heat. The call of radiator-clank, Omnes sancti Angeli et Archangeli, and the ecstatic shudder of the waterpipes response, Orate pro nobis. The smell of coffee brewing fills the room, Omnes sancti Innocéntes, and the scent of cinnamon rolls in the oven, Orate pro nobis. And the snow falls and falls, whisper quiet, and keeps falling, Omnes Sancti et Sanctæ Dei and we wrap ourselves in a woolen scarf and watch, Intercédite pro nobis. It covers the rooftops and the water towers, Ab omni malo, it covers the fire escapes and the casement windows, Líbera nos, Dómine. We watch the people on the streets below, in their hats and coats and unsuitable shoes, Propitius esto, we watch the others sitting at their own windows, looking out as the snow falls, Parce nobis, Dómine.

Slowly, slowly the snow purifies the city, absolving it of its many sins, Ego te absolvo ab omni vinculo excommunicationis et interdicti. Slowly, slowly we too are absolved, Ego te absolvo a peccatis tuis.

But it never lasts.

-- greg fallis

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