It was so simple and so not.
The father speaking French, me ppidgin
bald a sinner. I kneeled, confessed as best
as I cold using all the words I knew – the hot
coleur of my anger – et autres choses for those
other things of which here I cannot speak
because outside the confines of the confessional
all things remain sanctified, sacred and unspoken.
]I left bright – claire, blonded, gleaming,
sanctified, purified: simple, free
a child running down the aisle of St. Sulpice.
09/23/05 , St. Sulpice, Paris , France