Prayer

by Susan Konz

Oh Lord, if I’m lying,
           strike me down.
It’s been too long &
 
           I have tried
to disembroider myself
           from these blanket
 
sins.  All my soft
           nos are screaming
yes and I left
 
           some man I love
in a barroom downtown
           Oh, Lord, I’m lying
 
strike me
           down.
Don’t just leave me here
 
           in this gypsy cab
refusing to go
           stuck behind a city bus
 
in midtown traffic.
           Don’t forget me
to my own sins.
 
           Make my vices
business expenses.
           Deduct me, Oh Lord,
 
I didn’t mean it
           or I didn’t know
what I meant –
 
           what difference then –
Punish me
           by dulling me
 
to the stories
           make me forget
how they kept me
 
           alive (why leave me
words enough
           to drivel on?)
 
Or take, instead, away
           all the soft edges
of sad & leave me
 
           the burnt point
of anger, Lord,
           I can only see myself
 
through another’s eyes –
           in your blinking
absence I’ve turned
 
           to other fathers, Father,
why make me
           a will so bold
 
and this temperance
           so weak?
Why born in me
 
           this want of absolution
then you run off,
           then you hide, too?