the skyline of the early evening city
rising behind
soaring diocese minarets
and crucifix adorned steeples
a cathedral flanked by
brick and mortar chess pieces
surrounded by cloudy machinations
god is content this night
to reign only in heaven
for the king is not yet dead
and bishops must be guarded
by mortal men
we glide across marble tiles
fingers laced together
to find our way into the sanctuary
you anoint my head and yourself
after threshold is crossed
asking me to look to the choir loft
the pipe organ sings out not to heaven
instead pleading sympathy for the devil in hell
our laughter causes the sainted statues to turn their heads
swords collide in the painted ceiling
their embers fall
burning our skin
you pull me into
the red velvet confessional
by my waist
i wish to be captured
plunging your hands into my hair
lips pressed to mine in worship
pleading to a heart full of grace
you say,
“my queen, you make me feel so alive…”
i am undone
as beads fall slowly
to the floor