Convicted In The Holy Spirit (Ii) Poem by James Mullaney

The last, dim dregs of moonlight pool in gloom.
Never did Monday morning sprawl so scant
nor sour eye disgorge its yellow rheum
like mine: Sin-sated, devious, aslant.
CLASP THE BRIGHT STEEL SABER OF CONFESSION.
I crave a brave face but my stomach fails -
Old Scratch has me marked for his possession,
eternally blind and bound in hell's jails.
O Blessed Mother, please you pray tonight
for a lost sheep in the throes of despair.
For by your grace there dawns a blameless light:
Christ the good, Christ the true, God our Savior.
With such a mother praying for one's weal
Confession is a heavenly ordeal.