Superfluous Saint Poem by Sonny Rainshine

What happened to you in Guadalajara?
That day you found yourself
in a parish church, soaking wet from
a sudden cloudburst.

That day you felt the madonnas
with their oh-so-human faces
staring at you, beseeching you with their
glassy eyes.

And the robed statue of St. Teresa
glaring at you
and you saw the Pieta, the lean, limber body
sagging across the lap of the virgin
transform into your body
and you were dead
and she was grieving
for you.

You told me after you came back
that you left the sacred place
to become a sacred being,
though you never wanted such a thing.
You have lost your passion
in order to become passion.
I don’t need another holy relic.
I want you back.