You were my religion

but I didn’t know it then -

too busy worshipping

your sacred lands

by candlelight -

our halos reflecting

softly in the frosted

bedroom window panes

of an underheated flat. 


God’s name was

exclaimed often

during fervent

crusades of love -

as we designed a new liturgy

with sacraments far holier

than any church or priest  

could ever hope

to piously conjure.

The shrine of memory

holds you captive now –

haunting visions nimbly dance –

between the embers

of lost passions embracing

relics of spent desires –

remnants still offering

modest prayers

of thanks.


N.T. Chambers has led an interesting life before becoming a writer. Among many jobs held were: cab driver, bus driver, sales drone, pizza deliverer, wine merchant, improv actor, editor, educator, professional counselor, and, of course, every writer's "go to" job - bartender. The author’s works have been published in the following magazines and journals: “Grassroots,” “In Parentheses,” “You Might Need to Hear This,” “The Elevation Room,” “Wingless Dreamer,” “Months to Years,” “W.E.I.R.D,” “New Note Poetry,”Bright Flash Literary Review,”Quibble,” “Indolent Books,” “Banyan Review,”Inlandia,”The Orchards Poetry Journal,” “The Decadent Review,” “Share Literary Journal,” “Bluebird Word,” and “Red Coyote.”