My Grandmother’s Crystal
In the evenings, I sip wine
from my grandmother’s crystal.
I tell myself she would like that,
but I know she wouldn’t.
She was staunchly born-again.
Drinking was a sin.
But I’ve committed so many sins,
what’s one more?
Redemption will come.
There’s still time.
Things aren’t entirely hopeless.
Not yet.
I pour the dark red wine of repentance.
I take one sip, then another, then another. . .
As I do, I denounce myself
to atone for daring to live my life.
Redemption will come.
Redemption will come.
Until then, I’ll sin.
Cynthia Pitman began writing poetry again this past summer after a 30-year hiatus. She has recently had poetry published in Amethyst Review, Vita Brevis, Right Hand Pointing, Ekphrastic Review, Literary Yard, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Postcard Poems and Prose, and Leaves of Ink. She has had fiction published in Red Fez and has fiction forthcoming in Saw Palm: Florida Literature and Art.
