Air

Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash

With your short prayer,
that was a blasphemy,
you consumed the air.

The hardened face
with the wholeness of a clotted rage,
like molten wax
on my skin -to see how it works, to feel the fire and stand.

A twisted game,
between pleasure and grief.

That blasphemy is curling your tongue.

Even you are learning
to love.