ROMANCE Poem: Infernal Confession, by Fleur Dias

The confessional box is suffocating
with the sticky heat of late summer

As she confesses her sins to the silence
ugly like bloody scraps of meat
she waits for the priest’s absolution

Even though she knows –
nothing can cleanse the stain on her soul.

She feels tainted, impure, and broken
this is what they tell her
in that sanctified place.

That she
is the embodiment of all things wicked—
the devil with an angel’s face.

She hates her hands
for what they crave to touch

despises her mind for its insatiable desires
curses her blood for its passionate fire.

Sitting in the pews, back straight
picking at her cracked nails
as The Lord gazes down from his place on the altar
so high, so holy, so divine
even as the crows picked at his entrails

and his gaze burns because she knows
she is spoiled

Rotten and wrong for the thoughts
that coil around her mind like a serpent

She knows
that looking at another girl’s soft skin is a sin

They tell her she’s destined for hell
where she belongs
and no, the lord will not save her

Because Jesus loves you
but you don’t want to be saved