apostasy, the finish line
cast off you fish and go home.
i’m a renunciate nun out on leave
and crazy as a door in spring over
sweet rain on the mission dell,
tracks where love ran away
with stories no one tells.
the end was yours, lord. game all done.
you teased, you taunted, your angels
served you well—
half paid by rage.
sorted,
by the storm.
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