‘Sonnet XII’ by Chris Bullard

I’m all for redemption, if you get fair value.
The more sins you haul in, the more grace
you get back, am I right? Enough saliva-
wilted green stamps got mom a coffee pot,
so why shouldn’t I expect a seaside villa
in perdition. If I confess my imperfections,
can’t I still take some pride in the ebony
I’ve perfectly smudged my milk bottle soul?
Don’t tell me I’ve got to do time doing good.
That’s such a Hollywood cliché. Look,
I’m coming as a little child unto you: candy
on my lips and a slingshot in my pocket.
I know there’s room for sinners at this bar.
A multitude can fit in a cup of absolution.

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