Saturday, February 5, 2011


The vast hollow where sin ricochets
off the alter is burnt and smudged
on my forehead, an embedded red stone.
Forgive me for bite marks and bruises
I can't remember my teeth
I want to die
want others dead
the scent of the man
in the pew up front is delicious.
And forgive me my trespasses
as I forgive those who condescend.
The woman priest
tilts her head with authority
holds her hands with contrived grace
accents each line with pause as she reads.
Lead us not into the vulgarity of correctness
I promise to abstain from sugar and too much wine.
The children have begun to lie
the best liars never get caught.
If they die or lose their minds on drugs
I will move to Colorado.

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