imarkanx
imarkanx
Penance
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Penance

pitter patter regret

I awaken from dreaming
 of your lips warm on mine
only to find the heat is off
 in this tomb-like house

Easter weekend
Good Friday hatches
 half-formed thoughts of eggs
coloured bright or not
 ripe with possibility
still warm from the pot

I’d have to move
 from this bed where
I’m cocooned in linen
 ignoring the pushy cats
scratching my bedroom door
 demanding I arise

pitter patter
  April rain on roof
pitter patter
  cat paws in pursuit
pitter patter
  prayer in my head

bitter herbs for seder
 fresh plucked and dipped
unleavened bread broken
 blessed and consumed
this is my body
 this is my blood
  this is my betrayal

I never asked for this
 and yet here it is bestowed
as everything and nothing
 alpha to omega recycled
wrapped in brown paper
 with a tattered Christmas bow

pit-a-patter
  rain keeps falling
pit-a-patter
  felines still calling
pit-a-patter
  I’m still stalling

mother used to make fish
 every goddamn Friday
filling my sinuses
 with the odour of death
and catholic ritual for supper

father would close shave
 every blessed Saturday
filling the whole house
 with the reek of Aqua Velva
in ritual ablution for Sunday

I never could decide which
 aroma I detested more
and now how very much
 I miss them both

pitter-patter
 pit-a-patting
tick-tock
 time moves on
leaving us alone
 hoping to atone
for what we did
  and what we couldn’t

pater noster pattering my chest
 time at last for me to confess
I think today it may be best
 if I slip deeply back to my rest.


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