By Morgan Boyer


About a quarter mile from my house lies a church
with rusted handles. Its congregants are spider

webs and elders rotting planks of wood. The grass littered
with beds of cigarette butts and ant-filled bags of Cheetos

dropped by broke twenty-somethings who were high as kites
trembling to their houses at four in the morning on a Monday.

Their grey insides glistened in the near-noon sunlight.

In black, 1981-style letters on the ebbs of white panels encased
inside of a dusty sign read a haunting epitaph:  Faith is not just

something you believe

but you act upon

Morgan Boyer
MORGAN BOYER is a recent graduate of Carlour University’s creative writing program. She is a native of Pittsburgh, Pa. Morgan’s work has appeared in other literary magazines, and in 2017 she received the Marilyn P. Donnelly Award for writing.