Orphrey




Orphrey

You change a life
as eating an artichoke changes the taste
of whatever is eaten after.
                                                                Jane Hirchfield
                                                                “To Judgement: An Assay”

This is what you did to me
with your hands and lips
and Cheshire face:

the way your fingers brushed my loose
twelve year old boob, fruit you said
through your teeth, pulling it
in with  your breath so it sounded
like you had hot soup
in your mouth and  the only thing saving you from burning
your tongue
was mass was set

to start and the congregation waited
judging their own faults and acts
praying at their own stations
at set places along the aisles.  And the day
you pressed your cock against me
and said Jesus
                                will forgive anything and I wanted to
                                open the door and yell him through the roof
                                because how could he
                                not offer to stop it
                                how could he kneel there
                                pressed against his own stones
                                and not get up and lift you off
                                by the front of your surplice
                                and throw you into your paraphernalia
                                                knock the water
                                                and the wine
                                                and the yet unholy host (but you’d soon
                                                                                                change that)

                                how could he let you     
                                grope and leave open
                                to the bottom (it’s broken you’d said once
                                                                when I looked
                                                                before you dressed
                                                                one vestment over the next
                                                                they won’t know—

                                                but I will—I will when I hand you
                                                the linen and tip the cruet to wash you

                                                I will when I hand you
                                                the key
                                                to the tabernacle to reach between
                                                the folds of silk and let it brush against
                                                you soft as pansies
                                                                                (you said that once too)

Father, this is what you did to me:
                                you put yourself inside of me
                                worse than what that dick, that one you made
                                a vow over, the one you said you’d only carry
                                like a Jesus cross up the road to Golgotha
                                to fall at all the appointed times
                                and get up again, but leave
                                Veronica on the rocky gutter
                                to face the next  and the next and the next
                                day and never be able
                                not for years and years and years
                                make out
                                the right face
                                in the dark
                                when it all hung
                                everything
                                on the line
                                and the blood's coming from my mouth
                                and my bum…

You touched me there most Saturday afternoons
you bent toward me in your chasuble
and rose up
and pulled me into you
and buried your whiskery face into me laughing
laughing and then opened the door
to call on the people to admire  you
while you changed bread
and wine
                into flesh and blood
                and I stood behind you the whole time
                the whole fucking time ash-
                amed
                and I did eat
                and I did drink.
                                 


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