the hindrance of seeing the truth
longing to touch the sweet taste
of what they call
sin

you love avoiding me, my 3 am muse
you love grilling me, too
I don't mind these tribulations
because I know of the weekly perk
when clouds burst in their teal dance
and you twirl round the room
alone

that precarious balance of
waiting to topple over prayerful cliffs
in your
special skirt.