<-- back to archive

The Arms of Absolution
After Anne Sexton
(19/10/2004)

by Danny Gentile

Inside the room
it seems there is a litany
that should not have come -

but there regardless -
dissembling as ash does in a storm -
disintegrating ash - & smoke
wetted down with it -

This is a litany
that shrugs off the holy name
like a cardigan -

words that have proven themselves
against the most difficult vows -

These are psalms
that of themselves construct
a pulpit from a boot -

or from the back of a chair
where the cat worries it's fur -

Forgive me father
for I have hardened over
like a puddle after frost -

or milk gone sour
in it's homogenised box -

Is that me there
where the verses clamour
& the psalms concur - ?

Is that me there
as a light-bulb signalling
the confessional's free - ?

A neon cross over the door
to denote the process -

Bless my soul
in a small wooden cubicle -

bless me again just in case -
one for the road -
straighter than an arrow -

Were you privy to the formula
that the babe sucked on
as it dabbled in baptismal water - ?

Did you see the holy ghost arrive -
pristine as a fresh toothbrush -
feathers ready to whiten
the whitest of stains - ?

Fix me in an imprint -
a Guttenberg original -

paper fine as an infant's fingernail
fell open upon -
chapter - verse - & innocence -

something called up
from rote learning -

pages from the missal that
will never fail
no matter that you try & try -

to deny all affectation equally -
but there is no way - certainly
no reason for you to reside
in the cave -

someone rolled the stone aside -
a spokes-model gestures
at a new car -

& the words are echoing about -
they have become spare parts
for somebody's dogma -

or rusted on the shelving
that has held them too long

careful & overburdened
in the arms of absolution - .