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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic




The two catholic priests sat

in the Breakfast Room

off the refectory

in the abbey.


They looked up

when you entered

then continued

their conversation

about Dante

and you poured

yourself a coffee

and a small bowl

of Cornflakes

with a little milk

and sugar.


You sat down

and sipped the coffee.


There were prints

of Michelangelo

on the walls

and a crucifix above

and between

the two doors

that led to the


where the monks ate

three times a day.


The priests conversed

but said nothing to you.


Their words were uttered

in posh well bred voices.


One said

Few believe in Hell these days

and even fewer in Paradise

and those that do

have vague ideas

gathered from odd books

you find on airport

bookshop shelves.


You listened half heartedly

as they talked.  


You wanted to ask

about the place.


Wanted one of them

to hear confession.


Maybe one

to give absolution

and perhaps offer a solution.  


You could hear

the footsteps of monks

in the other room

getting their breakfast

of bread and jam

and black French coffee.


One priest laughed.


You never heard the joke.


The other guffawed loudly

in a girlish voice.


And the woman was seen

leaving by the back door

semi dressed and in great distress

the priest continued

And Father Denton

was never the same.


Then they were silent

and stood and smiled

and went their way.


You sat alone in the room.


The Michelangelo prints

reflected the single bulb

hanging above the table.


The Crucified seemed

above it all.


You would find some other

to hear confession.


To give absolution

from your fall.

Submitted: April 14, 2012

© Copyright 2022 dadio. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



Again, transported to live for a bite into the life lived in another world, coming back only with the last word. Your gift is strong.
Kindest regards, Connie

Sat, April 14th, 2012 3:39pm


Thank you, Connie.

Sun, April 15th, 2012 12:20am

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