Sunday, March 12, 2017

staying in bed on lent ii


a meditation on things continuously fucked up

the moon was full last night
my daughter's blood boiled
she paced the hallways, frantic
i trailed behind her,
mumbling about hot milk

i sat up, waiting out her moon madness
revisiting old wounds, i stuck my fingers in
the agonies in my own side and hands
truly, this happened, and i lived?

she fell asleep around seven
i didn't have the heart to wake her

in the morning she dreams
i sit in bed, and ought to sit in church

between one sunday and the next
my sins pile up like the bottle deposits
overflowing their bin in the kitchen
they spill across counters and shelves
they lay forlorn by the door
waiting their chance on redemption

how can i repent and be new
drink the blood and eat the flesh
lie in my lover's arms and in his bed
when i can't even seem to get out of mine?

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