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i

barefoot against the cool marble, dressed in white,
he leads me in- a convict in chains.
the statues seem to glare down at me.
heretic, blasphemer, the dead hiss.

wrists bound by iron shackles,
as we reach the Sister's office, i begin to wonder-
is every window so securely barred?

ii

do you even have a soul of your own?

the question is enough to break my concentration.
butterflies of azure light break into shards,
dissolving in the sunset glare.

i- i beg your pardon?
she seems to smile,
draping a strand of shimmering gold
around my throat.

i open my mouth, but cannot speak.
[too wise to listen to my serpent's tongue?]
studying me as i trace the collar, she grins darkly.

i shiver, suddenly realizing her lesson:
aphonic, i cannot scream.

iii

the medication is placed on my tongue for me
like the communion wafer i refused to take.
this time Silas stands and watches me swallow.

there, see? that wasn't so hard, was it?

his smile is kind, but mine is shallow,
disgusted by the bitterness hidden under my tongue.

it is no drug i can identify.