{Balthasar Cossa confesses to incest, adultery, defilement, homicide and atheism}

The wings of the shirt will irritate me
not even a turned shoulder to me in defiance

"I cannot remember when"
a dislocated collarbone falling from the scaffold.

I cannot remember the sensation of the needle
at the blood bank. Conservation!

I must be true to the spirit of the thing.
I grasp her shoulders and ease her to her knees.

I use the shreds of her shirt to lay
beneath her like a blue prayer rug