Those vices I dropped like rhinestones
on the starry path to respectability
become diamonds when he whispers "tonight"
when he reaches out to my child weary flesh
-unwillingly- I will respond but.
I cannot shrug off the dishes and bills
the stain on the floor where the cat bled
the un-watered plants;
how many times have I written these lines?
Ah God…even my most poignant moments
have become mundane -
like the Taj Mahal must appear
to the beggar on the steps
selling downloaded pictures
in the shadow of holiness.