| |
|
|
 Altar
Boy’s First Mass
If
you would imagine the nature of God,
|
| look
to what’s real in this world. |
—Sisters
of St. Joseph |
It’s
something like dressing out
for your first real football game.
Solemn
in full medieval armor,
deemed worthy at last:
helmet, shoulder pads, rib pads,
hip pads, thigh pads, knee pads.
You crowd doorways, overwhelm chairs.
Cleated shoes lift you above yourself.
You shuffle slick floors
wary as testing ice
to consider walking on water.
Straps, buckles, laces chafe
welts into your skin like lashes.
You worship pain’s plain and simple
virtue, a gospel
of bloody noses and bruised bones.
Something
like your first real date
the girl drifts in and out of
like a wish
and you a bungle of awkwardness
with no place to put your hands
or eyes
except everywhere
you’ve been dreaming about.
Inside, ghostly murmurings:
Come close, come close.
Let me be what you would have me be.
———————————————————————
|
|
