sediment & iron
by John C. Polles
I.
You were God—
So i bent my knees at
the Altar of Us,
the Future,
of Possibility.
You were God—
So i drank Your Blood at
the Altar of
what could have been—
should have been.
Maybe even What Would Have Been.
You were God—
So i brought offerings—
so many parts of me—
and left them at the Altar of
finally feeling Complete.
You were God—
So i kissed Your Feet—
washed them in my tears—
dried them with my hair—
at the Altar of
finally not being
alone.
Like i could be loved again—
finally—
by the Once & Future.
II.
But then—
and not for the first time—
I left the church
when I remembered that
genuflection just wasn’t for
Me.
And it wasn’t easy to forget—
not easy to forget the capitulation,
staring up at you,
12 feet tall.
But now—
but now—
I know that those feet I kissed,
bowed before so many times—
They were
molded only from the most
malleable clay—
just sediment & iron.
That the god I built out of you—
He was an illusion.
False.
III.
But I can see—
I can see now that perhaps
I wasn’t so easy to
forget, either.
And so you return,
trying to again grow
6
feet
taller.
Author Bio
John C. Polles is a freelance editor from Northeast Ohio. A graduate of Kent State University at Stark, he previously served as Editor-in-Chief of Canto: A Magazine for Literature & Art. His poetry has been published by Kissing Dynamite and Nightingale & Sparrow; his short story “Lovehandles” appeared in Luna Negra and was excerpted by Fusion Magazine. You can follow John on Instagram @johncpolles.
