Confession

She has a bandage on her heel to treat
the blister she developed after walking
for a while in my shoes. She always liked them
because they slipped on nice and easy,
but she never went so far with them before.

Stain glass decorations mark the church door
and are a reminder I haven’t been there
since I was too young to understand
what they were preaching. I prefer teaching
from the universe in the form of every single
worst mistake.

She wakes up on the couch and stretches out
her arms and back above her head, and rolls
her eyes around like she had long been dead.
The words “I love you” were something we
just never said until it slipped from both our lips,
like we were sure what we were in for
from the start.

I touch the bowl of water and my fingers
hit the bottom that is decorated with a flower
I cannot name. I claim a spot
among those waiting for confession and try to
pray simply to say I know it’s over,
but when I close my eyes I only hear choir.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s