sediment & iron

by John C. Polles

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You were God—

So i bent my knees at

the Altar of Us,

the Future,

of Possibility.

‍

You were God—

So i drank Your Blood at

the Altar of

what could have been—

should have been.

‍

Maybe even What Would Have Been.

‍

You were God—

So i brought offerings—

so many parts of me—

and left them at the Altar of

finally feeling Complete.

‍

You were God—

So i kissed Your Feet—

washed them in my tears—

dried them with my hair—

at the Altar of

finally not being

alone.

‍

Like i could be loved again—

finally—

by the Once & Future.

‍

II.

But then—

and not for the first time—

I left the church

when I remembered that

genuflection just wasn’t for

‍

Me.

‍

And it wasn’t easy to forget—

not easy to forget the capitulation,

staring up at you,

12 feet tall.

‍

But now—

but now—

I know that those feet I kissed,

bowed before so many times—

‍

They were

molded only from the most

malleable clay—

just sediment & iron.

‍

That the god I built out of you—

He was an illusion.

‍

False.

‍

III.

But I can see—

I can see now that perhaps

I wasn’t so easy to

forget, either.

‍

And so you return,

trying to again grow

feet

taller.

‍

Author Bio

John C. Polles is a freelance editor from Northeast Ohio. A graduate of Kent State University at Stark, he previously served as Editor-in-Chief of Canto: A Magazine for Literature & Art. His poetry has been published by Kissing Dynamite and Nightingale & Sparrow; his short story “Lovehandles” appeared in Luna Negra and was excerpted by Fusion Magazine. You can follow John on Instagram @johncpolles.