In the Altar of Sin...

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.