After Contrition

Were these last words,
Upon the final wrest of light from night,
I pray they treated not of the temptation;
Fumbled not, thickly, through the faults;
Nor settled guiltily, as a paraffinic film, onto faithful ears.
Eyes sense too poor to see the stain
And lips profane much more the alleged sight.
Now, silently, please send me into the earth
God gave to his own, and put your thoughts aside
With love and sense beneath the good black light.

August 9, 2000