Tabernacle

“WHAT YOU LOVE IS YOUR FATE”

–Frank Bidart, Guilty of Dust

All words blasphemous are uttered on holy terms.

I think I hate you. I wanted to say today but I

did not want you to leave me alone. I think

I hate you. Amor Fati. What you love

is your fate.

Instead I said, unfortunately.

The door, for you, will always be open

to my heart. Unfortunately.

I said.

You touched the red, wet muscles

of my heart. It is a sensation that I

could only later acknowledge as pain.

Fuck the god that creates pain. Fuck

the pain that is beautiful. Fuck you.

Get your fingerprints off my heart.

Amor Fati.

What you love is your fate. I think I hate you, I said.

A tour guide in Old Quebec told me

Tabernacle is a dirty word. You are

beautiful to me. I placed you on the tip of my tongue

like the flesh of some god.

I said.

Tabernacle. Or any blasphemy I could

remember. I think I hate you.

Amor Fati. What you love is your fate.

by Brianna Fay