i lied, i lied, i lied
you of all people should know that. 
promises made to you with fingers crossed behind my back.
i strayed, i listened to words whispered from a forked tongue, 
and when you turned your head i melted down my jewellery to build a golden calf.
no sign from you, no psalm. what was i supposed to do but fill the empty space?
a votary you never asked for,
a devotion you never wanted.
"what is my penance?"
"to carry your desire with you, always a millstone around your neck."

when i loosen the leash around my mind,
my thoughts and feet always find their way to your temple.
every time—it's pathetic, it's desperate,
daily sermons reduced to a handful of miraculous apparitions,
and years without a pilgrimage.
my skin left untouched but a holy mark still imprinted under the surface,
bone-deep.

the earth spins,
the sun rises. 
the sun sets.
the tides come in & out.
and you remain the standard to which all things must be measured. 
my god, i am sick with longing,
an ache for something that never was.

what has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again.

there is no new thing under the sun.
abby