It smiled.
It actually smiled.
Brother David twitched,
An uneasy slouch betrayed.
Across the maw of his cell,
A small, humble flask.
Forbidden by the superior,
but easy enough to obtain.
Transfixed, a glare returned,
Afternoon rays dancing from the elixir.
I’m no raging alcoholic.
Hey, I hardly drank before I got here.
These are trying days.
And it does help me relax.
It’s my right to relax!
It’s licit!

A catch,
Looking upwards,
A deep breath.
Part and parcel with the journey,
These days are trying by design.
Things, these things, made forfeit
So I may hear
The Voice
Unmuffled
By the mire of my imperfection.
It’s the principle.
The journey is the goal.
Brother David swaddled the unopened flask
Reposed in the folds of his novice’s tunic;
To be humbly deposited in the pantry.
He smiled.