General Confession - Brad Davis (Psalm 26:2)

In each promise of faithfulness, traces

of countless betrayals: averted eyes,

a voice's tremor. Like the air we breathe

or the glances we exchange with strangers

on strobe-lit dance floors, we test positive

for impurity. But do not expect

a list of lurid details in these lines;

I am neither Catholic nor Lowell nor Plath.

I am merely - how does the song go? - "prone

to wander." So have we any chance, 

this side of heaven, at a constant heart? 

Or even modest progress toward that end?

The word's out: love covers a multitude 

of sins. Is this the best we can hope for?