Concerning the Girl with the Cursive Tattoo Which Read:
"Too Late Have I loved You
O' Beauty So New"
Lord, grant me chastity and continence
But not yet.
Because I want to know the heaviness
Of her hands on my chest just one last time
And I want to kiss the sweat that beads up
Between her shoulder blades when I'm behind her
Because she tastes -- I shit you not -- like altar wine
And beneath her tongue there's milk and raw honey.
And Lord, God, deign to be always in me
But grant that I might be outside myself.
Because there's a red tide off Anastasia
And an albatross dying in the fire-brush outside
And it's been choking and wheezing the entire night
And I'm lying here in the tar-dark rehearsing its murder,
Making throats of my wrists and wringing 'em tight
Writing a requiem for the kid.
O' from my secret sins pray cleans me, O' Lord
But first let the water warm awhile.
Because I need to know the lightness
Of her life against mine just one last time
And I need a moment to memorize
This anthracite rhyme on the curve of her spine
Because it tastes -- I shit you not -- like salvation
And from her own tongue it's milk and raw honey.