life as a religious allegory

begins with

confessional dinner; admissions

of our sins over

              green beans

                      and

              boiled potatoes.

forgiveness is

              singed fingertips

              on the pan

                   fleeting

recounted

stories of our travels when

we were apart, until you showed up

      hungry

               on my doorstep

again. inside of stolen

mugs we find the quiet

peace that fills the next morning’s

worship bed, inside

               books we find ourselves, holy

-er than we once thought, and

inside an action repeated

                           we find a ritual, communion

is in the piano keys, candle—

              prayers are given

at the fence-facing window, and

Jesus still died for our

unremarkable in-betweens;

               this mundane worship

               that finds God in fresh laundry

               and makes divinity

out of soft light and a warm bed,

a sweet sleep

without dreams.