Conversion

When I was a child
I prayed in a field
at an altar I stacked
of river stones, a little lump
of yellow wax
alight on top.

Now I am the altar.
First kiss is conversion
and he lays his prayers
across me, anoints me
with his oil, washes me
in his tears, sacrifices sweat
and blood upon me.

And I burn for him.

_