Relapse
Relapse
She relapsed on the blood of Christ,
Then walked out into the mild evening
With the sour taste of wine in her mouth
And the coolness of holy water
Evaporating off her forehead.
At the first cafe she came to
She ordered half a carafe of red wine.
When the waiter brought it, she asked
If it had been transubstantiated.
He didn’t hear her. She laughed, drank.
Before long it had turned her into someone
She hated. But she had just been
Reminded to love those whom we hate.
So, stumbling home, she loved herself.