Tuesday Poem: An earlier version appeared in Footwork in1987

Confessions

Bless me Father for I have sinned

1.

Sister Catherine tells us stories

about martyrs every Wednesday,

how little children in China

are being tortured for loving Jesus.

The Communists are giving them all

free passes to Heaven on the ends of bayonets.

This made me think about how little

I suffer, so when I go to light a candle,

I say a prayer and then I dip my

fingers into the holy wax,

and offer up the burning as a sacrifice.

It’s like I’m sending tiny pulses,

over a telegraph wire directly to God’s door.

It really hurts, but I purse my lips

and blow as hard as I can

until the wax clings to my fingers

like a pure white second skin.

It tastes like honey crayons, or

those fake lips you

buy at the candy store,

when I peel it off, and chew it.

Something I’d never do with Communion.

I thought maybe suffering

ahead of time might help me later on

when I get to committing mortal sins,

though I will always try to do everything right,

like a savings bond you can cash

in when times are tight.

2.

On Good Friday

I sat in silence for three hours,

in front of the glass display case

where  the ladies laid His body out,

pretending I was Veronica,

the closest thing Jesus had

to a girlfriend. After all, He left her

a pin-up picture of His face.

I knew that Jesus was naked

except for the white cloth

that covered His holy parts.

Those pews are so hard,

and I tried my best not to

think about what was under there.

3.

One day I was saying penance,

and Marty who owns the store

went into the confessional,

and talked so loud

I heard every one of his sins.

Every one.

I’m not crazy about Marty’s

wife. She hollers at me

for the way I read the comics

without buying them.

But I have to do that most of the time

so I don’t see the National Enquirer:

Headlines like Chinese Lady Ate

Her Baby really make me sick.

Marty’s sins made me feel sick too.

I don’t think he should have

done what he did to his wife.

I thought he was nice cause he lets us

call him Marty, but I was wrong,

and if I tell, I know that

I’m a sinner too. That’s what

Sister Mary said after my brother

laughed when Mrs. DeCarlo

let a loud one go on the way

up to the altar rail.

 4.

I am mad and I said bad words about Sister Joanne. 

I am sick of her Littlest Angels Club.

She says it's for girls with vocations

but when I told her I have a vocation,

she laughed and said I’d never 

get accepted to be a sister the way I dress.

Where is the belt to my uniform? And why 

doesn’t your mother braid your hair?

The girls all get to have 
cupcakes that look like angels.

I think maybe I'd be a good missionary,

since neatness might not count so much for that.

Or maybe I’ll grow up and get to clean the church;

become one of those ladies who dress 
the Infant of Prague. He's so cute -- 
Tiny Tears with kissable cheeks.

I wonder if He's sad that no one ever holds Him.

Maybe someday I'll be the one to hold Him.