angled concrete leads to basement
dented white squares, wooden stage
folded tables bound in closet. he drags chairs
the organist remembers his death here.

stomach contracts, smells birth on immaculate hands.
hand touches the floor to trace the boundary line

white wall, cut-out square in dust thick blinds
father cradles the body in touch below
corporeal degenerates, as all men do
you are forever within yourself

he bangs his head against the wall until it cracks.

the organist tends to the kitchen in the annex
father in chair, the boy beside him
i’d like for you to see this

whiteness unrecognizable. hand stare
how strange it is to extend fingers beyond
this skeletal frame. he breaks an egg on the stove.

smoke alarm flashes, it burns
screened through countertop reflection

lead in guideless, grasp for form
plastic tarp taped to tops of chairs
the party game. they speak separate lines
did you witness inappropriate behavior?

tacoma curves the corner. pulls into lot
greedy. locks black gate under darkness
thinned hair button down moves with wind
children must take love while it’s given.

fingers at keys, father behind him.

stabat mater dolorosa
rehearsed motion,
child partaking the
pain of the mother

it was such a sad sound
your hands each day
from the crying room

as i formed bruised,
tender beheld.
my favorite.

been four weeks since my last confession
familiar sound of breath recursive
echo wound

right hands meet the divider between them
orgasm in puddle on the floor

you are forgiven