Sainthood

Sainthood Daniel Brennan (bio) You who are not my Makerbut a holy object all the same, I press the worn rag to your chest,your face, the trace sketch of your nose, lips,your brown, sinking eyes– they appear as a portrait. A memory in motion.We linger here in the half-light of our devotions,the bones in my knees aching against your hardwood floor. I tell myself, prayer cannot be for salvation alone. You who are noGod but still keep me each night like a candlelight vigil. You, whose salted skinbecomes stained cathedral glass, becomes the soft blush of anointment. You paint my brow in a blessing—my lips, my tongue, my stone mask of repentance.Here in the half-dark of our devotions; let me begin again. Let me know goodness as I lay breathing.Let me discover grace, however it comes, within the hymnal of your shape. Carry me, my sinner's limbs and longings, with yoursteady mouth. Make a confession of me as I cry out your name.Forgive me, how far I stray from sainthood. [End Page 127] Daniel Brennan daniel brennan (he/him) is a queer writer and coffee devotee from New York. His work has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize + Best of the Net, and has appeared in numerous publications, including The Penn Review, Birdcoat Quarterly, Sky Island Journal, and ONE ART. Twitter and Instagram: @dannyjbrennan.