Efforts Of The Shallow Kind

If absence 
makes the heart
grow fonder,
then
you must love me baby,
‘cause I can’t recall
the last time
we split a breath,

but I’ll try to catch
the eastbound,
on a day when I remember
who I am,
and hope that you’re
available 
to help me 
sweep the ashes
from my eyes.

You used to serve me
tea with Hail Marys,
while cradling my head 
against your breast
lest the voices
get back in,

then you would hold
the candle
as I stumbled
through an alley
in hopes of finding
grace - 
that lay buried
under questions
which were painted
just to match
the evening sky.

Don’t be disappointed,
for I did essay
to find 
a more euphonic song,

but the notes 
ran out pedantic
on their way to
Sunday School,
so I turned out
all the lights,
in the middle of the book,
that the words might have
a quiet place 
to die.