9.03.2006

sunday morning confession.

she sits

in a room soaked in sunday morning light
which streams through glass panes
creating not-quite square patterns
beneath her pale feet

while she rubs her hands together, weaving
aching fingers in and out of one another
interlacing past with present

as tides of guilt wash over her
carrying last night's dream out to sea
but first giving promise of its incessant return.