Premiere Generation Ink.

Repent

what if i rip off my clothes,
do something terribly embarrassing?
what if i do not please you?

the gems that fall from your lips
restore my faith
like the smell of the ocean

you say you are tired,
a vessel holding exhaustion,
but i cannot release you.

somewhere high in the hills
on a trail i used to hike
i became useless,
and everyone i have met since then
can sense it.

that's the problem of not having a name
to go with a god,
it's hard to ask for forgiveness.

Jeremy Rosenberg

This poem is appearing in the Poetry Journal
Premiere Generation Ink. Volume 1 Number 1

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