Poems

An Ex Catholic Walks Into Confession, and She Says

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. 
I haven't been to confession since
the fifth grade.
I came here to confess that I have
left behind every scrap
of faith I ever had
and I wish to account for it.
I want you to know that I prayed to your god
and I told him what I was going to do
and he did not stop me.
I knelt twice a week at the feet of that poor man
and sculpted his ribs with my eyes
and untied in my mind
the shred of cloth at his hips.
I had his blood on my lips
and he did not ask me to stay.
Sweet child of a man, he rolled his eyes
to God and prayed himself away
so you could take his name in vain -- but
He did not ask me to stay.
I want you to know that I don’t miss
the Sunday morning fashion show or your
admonitions or the hypnotic repetition
of unthinking prayers in our
monotone drone -- worker bees stoned
on incense and wine,
keeping an empty ritual just to fill the time
repeating the spell of our own binding
I believe I believe I believe
we loved our endless litany
of saints and sins all taken in
the legato of suburban life.
I want you to know that in the desert outside your home
where you said I’d be alone, I found
an ocean of love like you’ve never known
and I dove right the fuck in and it was good.
And out here, none of us are who you said we were.
We are so much more.
I want you to know I’m going away,
and I’m not coming back.

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