Text

chalk words
ghosts flitting
across the
blackboard
religion
is the drug
of the masses
or so they say

to me its
living death
weeping over
imaginary sins
carving crosses
into your
skin
i have a cross
between my
breasts
i'm a good
catholic

walking, shaking
into the confessional
the light as dim
as the souls
of the people
who mumble fervently
in hope that
the priest
can't quite hear what
they're saying

worrying at the rosary
beads
lips forming the
prayer
'hail mary, full
of grace, the lord
is with thee'
is he really?
'blessed art thou
amongst women'
'blessed are thou
amongst women'
'blessed art thou -'

sit before the
fire
wear a hat
with a black veil
it covers your
eyes
so they won't
see the dark
circles - so much
like bruises -
that lie patiently
underneath your eyes

i was your
child bride
innocent, eager
to learn
but you locked
the door with
a black key
i got splinters
from pounding
on it
hands bleeding

you don't turn
on the church
it turns on you
with its
servants telling
little girls that
they sin
they sin
they sin

communion wafer
on my tongue
black relief
smile at the
priest
he doesn't smile back
walk down the side
turn
go back to your
seat

i confessed
and i was absolved
already my fingers
are black with the ink
from marking down
my sins
long lists covered
with scribbling
i wore a short dress
today
slut
you deserved it
i lied to my parents
bad girl
covering up the
smiling red mouths
on your arms
i am alive
should i be?

god, should
i be?