Sine Deo nihil sumus,
the bell tolled
for the office of Lauds
it echoed the cloisters,
rain dampened the garth
and lower wall,
I stood and smelt the rain
as it fell the freshness,
slipper my behind in our foreplay
games she said so I did,
incense from yesterday's Mass
still lingered as we entered church,
difficile per pregare,
fingers finding the stoup's water
and crossing from shoulder to shoulder,
this Sacrament really contains You
O my God You whom the Angels
adore in whose presence the Spirits
and mighty Powers tremble
Angela of Foligno said,
I watched the old monk
fumble with turning pages
of his battered breviary,
Gareth smoothed out the page
with his pinkie hand and focused
his eyes on words there,
I loved her red rose
and lipped it's damp,
I believe that You O Jesus
are in the most holy Sacrament
Francis said,
my stomach hungered and rumbled
as I chanted low,
prière intérieure is hardest
the French monk said,
Hugh pointed the lines in the book
that I may see or know
if got lost and saw his chewed
nail along the page,
without God we are nothing
Dom Joseph said,
the cloister clock chimed
a quarter God's voice calling,
morning light peeped
through high windows
outside the world went on
inside we prayed,
I kissed each buttock in turn
and she smiled,
buscar a Dios Dom Francis said
and I tried to seek,
as nothing I am nothing
but with God all things are
Dom Peter said,
the chanting ceased
a bell rang and we left hungered
for food and drink,
rain still dampened
the wall and grass,
the church tower like
a minaret pointing skyward,
I entered the refectory
for black coffee and silence and bread,
she lay there naked
inside my head.