Wanting

by Susan Shea

The good-looking man
was sitting in an easy chair
telling the tuned-in crowd
we all have sins
that we collect in different sizes
like balls and buttons and marbles
and even pebbles we find by accident
as we try to narrow down our lives,
play our way through our discomforts

he told us that each
of our offenses
will be used
to shatter some big glass pane that
comes between us and brighter times

he was confusing us, leaving us alone
on the other side of our screens, trying
to grapple with slippery words like grace
forcing us to look into
our grab bags of believability