I could not have imagined this back then when I imagined
what she might look like free of the habit she wore, day after day, my mind
distracted from my catechism class, the little voice on my shoulder whispering
in my ear that I ought to be ashamed, while my in my mind I remembered each
aspect of the veil behind which she hid, where her true beauty lay, one precious
bit of fabric, a total sacrilege, coming to life all these years later when I
no longer needed my imagination to paint the image I imagined back then, the Madona
I still can’t resist, and do not want to, unveiled
No comments:
Post a Comment