first love

the taste of god melts on my tongue
like the pain of the brown leather
belt across my pristine white ass
when i played with matches as a boy

this is holiness here, before the wine
after the rites, the altar blessed
with incense, the water crossed on
forehead, and the light dozing before
the homily.

the sins are pondered here
before the cannible moment of
christian sense, then again
they are digested on knees

Where are you now? I wonder
if you ever loved me or
if you imagined that you would be
my greatest sin?