THEN

I stare at photos
from the 1970's and

wish for grenades and flower vases
that pass for God
in a slow dissolve

there used to be a plan
drawn in blackest of ink and
stamped on the foreheads of
altar boys who could have been me

we who never volunteered
saved by our own reluctance

and the parents and relatives
who disapproved
still like to imagine
their heroes in stained glass.