You Were No Atheist

I found a photo of us,

eight years old,

stored in my ‘sent messages.’

We’re sat at Tokyo

smoking a cigarillo,

looking utterly chuffed with ourselves.

 

I thought I had destroyed all

evidence

of the Archer and the

Scorpion union.

 

Goddamn, darling, we made a

fucking stunning

couple when we

stepped out dressed in gangster black,

and with a dirty

day drink buzz-on.

 

But we were

stunninger

in the dark,

when you worshiped

at Church of Me;

your platform bed served well

as altar.

2 a.m. moon soaked Liturgy,

my sweet heathen,

you were no atheist

sheathed in my silk.

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© 2019 Kindra M. Austin/All the Beginnings of Everything

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