whom we sinners turn towards,
first honoring with a slight bow,
then absolving past indulgences,
revealing the most intimate details,
flushing them clean, sanitized,
and leaving, hands rinsed, comforted.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
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4 comments:
I can see my rescuer, and this sense of drowning will soon subside. Once I find my breath again, I plan to fully engage in the conversation here at throwaway. I appreciate all the comments, and all your poems have inspired me to keep chugging along.
Great metaphor. Confession really is the urinal for sins...flush and forget. I dig this poem.
Damn your religious pessimism and damn you for thinking of this metaphor before me. It makes perfect sense. Well done Champion.
As mentioned by Tim and Chris, awesome metaphor. The last word of this poem stand out to me. I understand how people are comforted by a priest, but when using a urinal I don't know if it stands up. I think relieved would work better for the metaphor's sake, but that's just me. Otherwise, well done.
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