Skeleton Key

I loved a preacher’s son.

Hide and seek

in labyrinthine basements

red roses and kissing.

A deep wooden organ that filled the back chapel

with a deep groan

when I pressed hard on the pedal

and kept it pushed to the floor

with all my weight.

I sang sweetly in the choir.

I walked holding a large brass cross.

A dream of hallways

that smelled of incense

and candle wax

every piece of fabric embroidered

by a woman’s hand.

Even though God left me

at fourteen

there are nights

when I see a flash

of light

and my heart beats

faster

than it should.

Music in the corners of the dark.

I still want to believe—

in something.