A smell of tangerine but
it tastes like licorice when
the big bangs of each kiss
spell passion with a hard A
and it’s not for amen
Church day begins on
cherry-colored lips
going aggro on a pear
on these stairs like
it was altar bread
but it ends with tight
hands white on black
squeezed and crossed
by the gum dispenser
and the confession booth
as a smack in the dark
precedes an exchange
of licorice and Hershey bars
Later they kneeled
and he said merci to his
lord for the A’s and the
bars she slyly traded
and maybe later
a pastor will wonder
why the booth smells
so citrus even though
the nuns had berries
and apples for breakfast.