Perpetual partner in the back seat

countless car rides to Mass

the car would honk for you

at four forty exactly

echo through the house

as we wait not-so-patiently

for you, we never

left without you.


Elbows touching, kneeled in pews

your unexpected shove awake me from

prayer, our territorial war begins

Sliding on the worn wood

it took all my might to lay

my hands heel to heel, wrist to elbow flat, resisting.

A reprimanding glance ends

that battle, until next week.


We haven’t gone to mass together

since Easter last year, our hands then

occupied by more significant others we had

found. I left at three-twenty that day

before you even sat down for

Easter dinner.


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