Sanctuary

The lone priest
fussed over his nightly chores:
fresh coffee made,
new styrofoam cups,
bulk cookies,
clean bathroom.
The month old magazines
lay scattered
like the broken promises
of yesterday.

He dreaded
the ritual that was about
to occur:
nightly flow
of addicts,
teenaged prostitutes
of both genders,
older hookers,
and many others
who accepted,
for a brief time,
sanctuary.

He hated
how his body,
kindled
by the presence
of his younger
visitors,
betrayed his faith,
as he fought
a lonely battle,
already lost.