Through

Angels strip you

They take everything

Japanese women in white

Covering their mouths

Giggling as they pull

Off your clothes

.

The door’s just big enough

To crawl through

More of a tunnel really

.

On the other side

There’s a throne

Gold vaguely translucent

And she’s sitting on it

Legs crossed

.

It’s the kind of a room

A throne would be in

The light diffuse

Through stained glass

.

On your knees

You confess everything

Every sin

Every desire

Every regret

.

She uncrosses her legs

You enter her

And you

Are reborn

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About ubu507

memory documentation and manipulation
This entry was posted in Poetry, The Sacred, Woman. Bookmark the permalink.

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