Temple

[monablackbird]

Hi Todd! Thanks so much for taking the time to critique. I know what you're saying about the wordiness - too much transition maybe - and I've reworked the first half after taking in your feedback. I almost feel like you're hinting that maybe I should end the whole thing with "only rain". Maybe this is two different poems because the tone does change a little after that line. Hmm... Either way, I'd love to hear what else you have to say about the rest of it. The second half needs a little more work than the first I think. I can take it.

Here's the bit of edits so far... I'll post the entire edit up in my initial post when I know what to do with the second half.

***

Our bed is the prayer rug where I found God.

Yeah, THE God

Not circumnavigating morality
Or bones of old saints
Lonely illusions of the sad and middle-aged
All Fat Tuesday freakshows in comparison

Our bed is the altar of sacred rites –

Marked with the devil’s big black Sharpie
And the intricately crocheted lace of sin
Nightly baptized in warm, honey-coated nothing
Pink patterns of iron and salt on linen

Absolution pours through drafty windows
Older than our bodies
Glass frosted by years without suds
Only rain