The nuns will send for the priest
when the time is gone.
And he will cross her with water,
water blessed by his touch.

Then she will be bathed and dressed,
and laid upon a bed of silk,
with the effigy of Jesus
hanging from above.

There he will come once gain,
to burn the scented ash of incense,
to say the soft spells of quiet magic,
to sprinkle the sealed box.

And after she has been carried
to where the dry dirt falls from his hands,
the workers will fold the noisey chairs
with the same rhythmic sway of oarsmen
who will never reach shore.