Words Left Unspoken - Saccharine Trust

In a bathroom stall I receive all the world’s truths

I’m a priest in a confession booth

Hidden from the faces of my confessors

I hear their stories

Of their weak shortcomings

Their desperate attempts

With my elbows on my knees I shake my head and say:

«I forgive you, brother, and I’ll carry that burden also,»

Then I flush

It was back when the squinty little slits smiled almost perpetually

Radiant with compassion and love

But in a sense weak with compromise

Sacrifice as a staple, an affliction

Ugliness held clos like an unwanted gasp of air

Slits grown swollen, thn rugged, and cry out, «Things that I used to do, Lord,

I won’t do no more»