Tuesday, January 18, 2022


The very first time 
we were lugged inside 
the sacristy, 

swaddled and screaming, 
then paraded 
through the nave—

it was then we should've realized
that something 
wasn't right: 

how our truth 
was a sin, 

and our sin 
was the truth;

that our bodies, 
which were heretofore 
made of perfect ratios 

of fat and heat
and light 

now felt constricted 
inadequate, and tight—

while cold chrism, 
drizzled listless
in those echoey rooms,

and the grave-like indifference  
of their cold marble pools,

and the cruel, fearful symmetry 
of responsorial tunes

these ordeals ballooned
to a wretched eternity,

just the way 
hell might.