You saw yourself with kinder eyes
and taught yourself about God and poetry.
The borders of your monochrome hours
should have been seen as holy lands,
timber to build stables for the rebirthing.
Communion on an empty stomach
left me hungry for a sacrament. In truth,
we were married bodily. In retrospect,
I was hungry for the shock of the moment
you learned me. I fell into
your open bible and never left
in the story of life ‘after the fall of man.’
I was to stay in the body
before the puberty of sin,
loving the width
and breath of air
in those pages
how to beg.