a sparkle of green

it was a sweet
delicate fear that fed you
in church
as a child. hair combed,
a clean shirt,
coins for the basket
rattling in your pocket.
your small hands pressed
and laced together,
with head bowed.
a sweet fear.
it kept you from
being more evil
than you already were.
God had to kill his own son
just to save you,
who does that?
you were that bad
of a boy.
the latin and incense,
the robes and candles.
the stained
glass
and murmuring
as one, repeating
what was spoken, the rap
upon the chest,
standing,
kneeling, genuflecting
on cue.
you would do whatever
it took
to keep you out of hell.
confession, communion,
repentance,
and yet you still couldn't
keep your eyes
off the girl
in front of you with
a sparkle of green in
her eyes. the white
ribbon against her long
dark hair. the paleness
of her arms.