Confessional

I had a confession for the Priest when I met him in the bar.
“Forgive me father, for I have sinned”


I.

Its like the first night when
you were telling me
to kiss you without your words
and your lips were
sooooo close—
— you couldn’t
keep my
breath from loving
yours—
— and you told me
that i could
without saying it
and i did


II.
because
of
the stack of books
that june
afternoon
i thought
that this wasn’t what you
could have
wanted
as haunted as your
crystal eyes
had crystalized
into.


III.
i watch your fingers
and try to decipher
how they could’ve
pushed past my skin
right on in
and grabbed the
pulse
that thumps to
your name


IV.
apparently
when i’m drunk
i tell you what
you already know


V.
there were nighttime clashes
and crashes
where i thought you
might
disappear
without
what you wanted
to say
or i wanted
to hear


VI.
but you called me
like a river
and you held me
like a pause
because
it seemed to be you
might’ve seen
a cause


VII.
juvenile
the flowers rained
on us
while we writhed
soft blanket
singing nothing
of import
because
the ocean is
music enough
and
oh
have you got
a way
without
words.


VIII.
i would situate myself
on your shelf
for
ever
if you were
sub-limely
interested in
pressing
on
and
on