The courtyard of the church,
too early in the morning
for anyone to really be awake.
The flowers dead and wilted, I was thirteen.

The church doors, ready and waiting,
calling all to its mysteries and
depths of ancient times.
The coffin shiny and black,
open and waiting. I was thirteen.

I could just run and never return,
go away and forget this forbidden
sanctuary I was beckoned to.
Just leave and don’t look back,
don’t think, don’t do. I was thirteen.

I heard it
The casket opened, a mouth waiting
for its treat. I climbed in, the silk
interior comforting in this grim moment.
I closed my eyes, the lid closed.

I lie there, Thirteen.

 
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