Offense and Offering

I am the eye plucked out. I nested

your affections on my lips and sent

them rising away. My tongue, a

millstone about my neck,

burns with coals now and

my words are ashes falling

in gray, dull sorrow

on the bruised and heavy knee.

I wash myself in the wool

you set out for me, and empty

my belly but for the bitter

bite of your unheard reply.

I would you were God to hear

my prayer and forgive me now.