Lent

I tried to give up wanting men

for Lent many times. Once,

I forgot to stop fasting when it didn’t work.

He rose, bedhead halo

only ever seen by first light but more sacred for it.

I basked and failed in sight of him.

I ate nothing.

I did not see myself becoming

less to see, less seen.

The tomb was empty

as I was without appetite,

and as likely a place. Once,

my only meal was the Body of Christ and still I hungered

for his body. It was the wrong miracle.
 

Years have passed and

I have given up giving up. I give to. I receive.

I eat.

I do not need to be told

gently that God would have me burn.

I know. I need only to be able to write

He held out his hand

and I put my fingers through it
 

as memoir.