Balance
A niggling of a headache
forming over my left eyebrow
in a socket there
Balanced gently like a bone on a ball
The deacon’s homily this morning
juxtaposed good and evil.
Two princes
the brown man said
Mmm, he paused between thoughts
And smiled like he knew we knew he knew
I could tell this man knew sin
intimately
He was, after all
a normal man
del barrio
A vato, we’d say
I liked him, liked his smile like a wide flat u
You
Is he the priest
I kept asking
No, he’s the deacon.
Why does he give the homily?
The alter girl–did you hear that?
The alter girl
was not a boy.
Good and evil
The two princes, the deacon kept repeating
At first I thought he said
The two priests
(del barrio, te digo)
I don’t like to be lectured.
Who said that?
But I sit through it knowing that’s the point of homily
humility
I took Body of Christ
figuring
I recalled my sins and then asked my brothers and sisters
to pray for me
I forgive them theirs
But blood?
Blood is a big silver chalice
filled with wine from a box
And now, after so many sinners
their sweat and tears too
Or at least their vavas
That’s an undignified word
to use in a poem.
But it’s my own ballast
What holds me to the ground
Makes me full and,
well,
Me.
I reject half what they say
none of what they pray
Hail Mary full of grace
Help me find a parking place
No, really.
I know there is evil in this world
My headache is gone.
I know there is evil in this world.
Fucking priests.
See, I just proved it.
But I am a good person.
Really, I am.
-From topic post, Bookends, Balances, and Hard Rain
redravine.wordpress.com 
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