A curtain torn

I take my shower in a bathroom small

there is no vent so

the steam

it billows and rolls

about the space                    

the hot water

pricks

my skin

and it is at once

pain

and

pleasure

Here

in this private space

I practice

once again

the dance of

love

and

hate

I try

desperately

to scrub away the proof

of my erring ways

the fact that

I have lived on sugar and chocolate

for the last

seven days

And it is confusing

because the act of putting

hand to mouth

is supposed to be

sacred

but I seem to always

ruin it

It is the nakedness

I think

that hollers loud

The baring

wide open and needy

that

renders me

undone

And I murmur prayer words

but they get lost

in the rushing

and I can’t escape

my skin

ever

The water

it washes over

my shell

this casing that

houses my

soul

and

I know that it

is a temple

but I

don’t believe it

I shut off

the flowing cataract

stand silent

and

brooding

I step out

of that

confessional

the one

that sometimes

spins dizzy

and it happens

In that moment

the curtain

is

torn

in

two

and I stand

foot bare

on

holy ground

For

John baptized

in the desert places

and

even if there is still

sand between my toes

I can now speak

the tongue of

saints

Linking with Emily