What I took as an order from heaven

(Or, more truthfully, from you)

Was in the end, the mere, mean jealousy

That you would have not dared laid claim to

In your less holy days.

Was your own love so inconstant

That you could not rest with the thought of mine

Continuing, unfettered by a black veil?

Caught in limbo--my vows to you as forgotten

As those of my second marriage.

Though I know I may now love my second spouse

Without fear of his ever turning--

Without fear of his jealousy

(Except my adoration of you

Unworthy demigod)

The stones of the altar are cold

And as my youth, a half-glimpsed blessing

Eludes me entirely in these dank, mirrrorless chambers

I panic, as frightened for its mortality

As for that of my sin-stained soul.

The light of your letters

Is gone for ever; upon seeing your script

Which once penned words matching my own desires

I must discard the papers for a time,

Knowing that their gentle admonishments

Will only make me scream

(However muffled by habit and duty).