Michael Malone - Weebly

Depart in peace, Alleluia.
Too late now, Jonathan was sighing, as across the
garden the rector blessed his parishioners, shared with
each a little private joke, and then returned them to the
world. Too late now to stop, Jonathan went on. With
thumb and fingers he rang the ring of up, down, up,
down, root to rim, rim and root again. How could he,
he who wore the black wedding band of Christ around
his neck? How could he not now? Best not to think and
so postpone the end. Get it over with and then get on
with it. "Hey, hey, beat the meat!" Down the college hail
the call had gone. Guys would yell it out, laughing,
poking, easy joking. Jonathan would shut his door,
disgusted, thrilled. Flong the dong, pull and push, pull
and push the dang dong dick stick. Funny how the mind
will never shut up. But here it comes, up and over. A
jismy fountain of old faithless at last. O come all ye! O
hell!
Someone was opening his cottage door. Someone
was singing away with great good cheer: "Guilty now, I
pour my moaning, All my shame with anguish owning."
The goddamn rector. He never knocked.