Issue 6 2010 - TLS - Victoria University

Confessions at the church
by Katherine Hubbard
Your tidy heart beats
As a closely-wound clock
The rosary spills from your mouth
Red words disperse on the wooden floor
You stoop to collect the confessional
While I try to hold the little moment
In my hands
Stop it escaping through the door
You hold my heart
My fingers estimate your touch
Holding the thin fingers
I stare at the donation box
You study the ceiling’s gothic ribs
‘I love you,’ says the ghost
Bit instead I blurt, ‘I only have enough
For the bus fare home’
You tuck yourself in
Donate your money but not your hand
Tuck in the soft pieces of yourself
Like wings that span then close
Somehow we lose the essence
Now we must go home
Before the shadows grow tall
Footnote:
My love, my pauper throat aches
With all the poor music I wanted
To sing to you but didn’t…
Katherine Hubbard is a poet and actor.
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