Penitence
It’s true that I bought you cookies
only to eat them before you even
knew they existed.
And it’s true that I carry guilt
bigger than the moon for all of the things
I have not done or have not said.
I tally them up, notches in my heart.
It’s true that I hold each one close to me
as if nursing an injured limb or
as if each transgression is a new organ
growing deeper into me, changing
the landscape of my body.
But when you cup my cheek
with your hand,
when we wake to sunlight
slanting on our pillows, I feel
the warmth of you, and I try
to mistake this for forgiveness.
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