Between the coffee and the coffin, before I admit I’m alive,
I apologize to God and pray to you--
my favorite fractured prophet,
patron saint of impatience,
this is a eulogy
built of what we have left of you.
I’m not sure how to grieve you
when your obituary reads in fractures
Reducing our temple to questions.
I cannot help but fear death
not knowing where you went
or holding any promise but a crucifix.
I’ll never call you sacrifice
Never let your death be something lovely
I only want to know
for the love of God
why you felt you had to go.
I cannot tell you
I am hurting less
I cannot tell you
I am feeling at all
I can only tell you
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry.
II.
Between the rafters in the attic,
before I admit how to die,
I apologize to God for leaving you,
my favorite lonely poet,
cradle to grave Gabriel,
this is an apology
which is all I can offer you.
I apologize for leaving so soon,
but the sanctuary felt like hell
pressing collarbones into concrete.
I have not breathed a full breath
since I stepped hesitant
into a congregation of fists.
But never call me sacrifice
Never let my death be something lovely
I only want to know
all the love of God
I was never allowed to know.
I cannot tell you
I am somewhere better
I cannot tell you
I am anywhere at all
I can only tell you
I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m sorry.
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