L. rests herself on my lap,
after weeping loudly,
I think what hath God
wrought for us, it is chilling,

she says to me so very haunting
she says to me as if a priest
with outstretched arms.

A priest in the confessional.

She says to me
as if she is God.
High on Mt. Herob,
burning as a naked bush.

She says to me
as if pulled from my ribs
Drawing in agony;
apologetic & saccharine.

She says to me with struggling

muscles. L.’s fragile and
vulnerable body shakes

dispondent lips moves
she says to me,

“You are forgiven.”