at least, that is what the guilty humming

in my chest

suggests to me.

I may have forgotten

you are a weary,

weathered woman.

who at the time

had their eyes closed

and hands raised

to give praise.

I might have gone too far

when I told you to go

dry out a bit.

a low blow,

an unnecessary attack

on the person

trying to teach me

the things I think I already know.

but how can I help that

I feel nauseous in church parking lots

and sitting in sanctuary

makes my fingertips ache

how can I explain to you

that when I escape

to cold water

and lavender hand soap

it has little to do with you

and everything to do with him

hanging by his wrists, asking me

to fall to my knees.

today, the soft parts of me

are deciding what I say

but,

you see,

I washed my pants

in the bathroom sink

and that should have been enough

to warn you.