Estuary

What am I
if not an ashtray?
a wandering, empty cathedral;

paper-thin walls
and a photo
telling the truth in my dreams.

And how is it that
you've redemption?
never with words
that weren't Scripture.

This wouldn't be Paul's
epistle
pissing
our sunsets away.

So where are we
to cast the keystones?
a clean bill of health and a promise.
The plot in the meadow's still barren.
The boathouse sank into the lake.

I still won't know how to take it
when all's said and done
but the funeral.
Father, your son couldn't make it.
Fattened and killed for the feast.