I drop your name,
candles burning
with false beliefs,
the flame awakening
a desire for more, while
singeing the edges
of safe complacency.
I sip the wine of forgetting
—the depth of your voice,
your rumbling laugh—
and taste the stale bread
that’s life without you.
I dip my hand
in covenant waters,
cold and ritualistic,
my fingers too wet
for the missal.
And so I fall
in genuflection,
on the kneeler
of my penitence,
to scorn the Rite
of forgiveness.
