Guilt

All you have to do is listen a little closer
to the one distant bell of a guilty memory
and then the hymn plays forth, the one
they play when they try to drag
the spirit in, willing or not, just to make it
dance. But this church has instead of
an altar, a chair, and there you are,
and the hymn has your name in it
and your friend's name, too--the friend
you punched in the groin out of dumb
curiosity, and you still don't know why.
Maybe it's a reason you still have.
Maybe that's the person you are.
And there he is in the front row.
Now the hymn has her name and you
close your eyes but hear her voice
and begin to recite all of the good
things you've done since then.