We leave 'fore dawn

 

The air is arid, dry,
the days repeat and repeat
as if a fish in a bucket
of tap water and algae bloom
being kept in the base
so a child can check it,
I wouldn't mind
but it's been weeks on weeks of this,
waking up in sweat,
remembering strong catholic dread
drilled into the bones
through innocent, explorative confessions.
I saw the Devil painted there,
whatever that means,
way back when
and there were never enough
Hail Mary's for me -
or maybe too many,
and that was the problem.
Today, in my thirties,
I've forced myself up -
out into a barely formed morning
to chase dawn,
to scale Tor,
to find water with sisters,
where we abandon our clothes,
and go a-cleansing -
away our environmental anxiety,
away our thoughts about tomorrow
and away everything I've ever known
about Hellishness and sinning.