at least, that is what the guilty humming
in my chest
suggests to me.
I may have forgotten
you are a weary,
weathered woman.
who at the time
had their eyes closed
and hands raised
to give praise.
I might have gone too far
when I told you to go
dry out a bit.
a low blow,
an unnecessary attack
on the person
trying to teach me
the things I think I already know.
but how can I help that
I feel nauseous in church parking lots
and sitting in sanctuary
makes my fingertips ache
how can I explain to you
that when I escape
to cold water
and lavender hand soap
it has little to do with you
and everything to do with him
hanging by his wrists, asking me
to fall to my knees.
today, the soft parts of me
are deciding what I say
but,
you see,
I washed my pants
in the bathroom sink
and that should have been enough
to warn you.
