I, sinner

I confess that I stole the soul of Christ’s heart
that I killed a flower from the back
and shot the stork.
I confess that
I ate all the apples
and that I sigh three times
when the moon rises.
That I lied to innocence
and pounded tenderness.
I confess that I have desired my neighbors
and that I have impure thoughts
about a certain saint.
I confess that I sold myself for money.
That I am not me
and have sinned in thought
word and omission.
And I confess that I do not repent.

Miranda Rupailaf