Thu 12 May 2016 by Rick Gilmore

I kneel before the oval altar
prayer mat unfurled --
its threads will dimple my knees --
and assume the traditional posture.

Awaiting inspiration.

After a time...long enough, I arise
emptied, no -- unburdened --
steadying myself against the floor and wall.

The porcelain goddess accepts many tithings.
But am I forgiven?


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