Your new lover
Stands, stretches,
Arms wide,
Head back,
A bare-naked
Against the moon-
Reminding you
Of the quiet
Of nuns over
The soft
Click of beads,
And the Stations
Of the Cross-
All things
That were torn
From you
By the one
You now call

Papa tolerates
This one,
Letting you
Keep it,
Though he
Might take
Your new toy
Away, when you
Aren't looking.
He has done
This before,
Even as he
Once tore
Away the
Sweet scent
Of incense,
The drone of
Quiet prayers,
Of needlework,
And prayer books
As grandmummy

Your new lover
Relaxes against
The open sky,
Hands now
At his sides,
The blood of
Your last
Shared meal
Staining his palms.
Laughing salt tears,
You fall
To your knees
And kiss his
One by one
As he looks
Down at you
In adoration,
Your chalice,
Your communion,
Your loving son
And sacrifice.