Holy Roller

was the nickname we gave to an aunt on my mother’s side, she

never missed a day of church and when I was shipped off to

 

that Hell of a catholic school I wondered would some

magician cut me off from the waist down and

 

stuff me into the confessional until I bled out for a cause I

never wanted to believe in? Staring at stained-glass

 

through violet smoke and stronger wine than they serve

at mass, someone commands the head tipped back and

 

the host received; someone touches your neck and tells you to

kneel with your hands tied behind your back, someone says

 

Angel, you’ve been so. very. Bad. Now’s the time to repent

with daily devotion. Now’s the time for penance. expiation.

 

atonement. self-abasement. redress. Come back until

you’ve learned your lesson, dressed all in black, breath

 

hitching up a skirt, and dripping holy

water the way witches learn to use candle wax. Trans

 

ubstantiation, we take our time trying to escape

Divinity before realizing, a bit disappointed, that it only

 

lasts an hour, anyways. Once fearful of

being blinded by false idols, commencement day

 

left me, silk in steadied hands, Saint

Irony; the one who now ties your blindfold.