payments

Of what binds us to gravely sin

A house, a home, a man, a win

The bed made that forms a child 

A form that binds within 

What made mouths move our canon’s demands?

I beg the waters to be dead and frozen

But desire often wins 

When judged, tends to lie 

To the child, “do not fear the height”

I ask God what he thinks of this

At its impermanence 

I weep a long while