You fed me pills
like eucharist
and said it's not a sin
if God allowed it to be created.
Speed may not be holy,
but we've all talked to God
during an acid trip
a time or two.

The first time I met your grandmother,
she was impressed
with me for being
a Good Catholic Girl.
You told her
that I praise God the most
in the bedroom.
She asked if that's
where I pray my rosary.

Naked and sweating,
you said that it's not sin-
so long as you pretend
to love me.
I snorted little blue pills
in the bathroom
and prayed for patience,
for dillience.

My priest said today
that all love is pleasing to God,
for it's one of the most important Virtues
and no one who truly loves someone
could be denied salvation.
All I could think of
was the empty pew seat beside me
and what I was doing on my knees
last night.

At confession,
I still haven't said
anything of you.
I'm lying by omission
and making it worse.
I don't want to pay penance for you.
I don't want to pray for your soul
and ask for forgiveness.
I'd have to actually be sorry.