Worshippers who can sing
(or try to) don’t want their faith
taken for granted. They long for
melodic turns of phrase
and memorable cadences.
They’d be listening in the pews
if they hadn’t needed to make
music of empty air.

Any tone-deaf preacher
had better do his damnedest
as an off-the-beat, white-throaty,
black-robed, timorous,
sharp, flat soloist
for critically minded singers
sitting there behind him,
flinching at his droning
and trying to forgive him
for conducting only himself
and turning his back on them.