IN THE TEMPLE

The guy who snuck Into my desk
and rifled through my files
and discovered the location
of the folder
that held my poems
and edited then
removing the profanity
and increasing the romanticity
and sending them
to the magazines
and the papers
and the printing press
letting everyone know
how I felt about you
was like a thief in the temple
of my soul.

I did not mean those words
to escape their lock box
but he found them
and released them
and the world now knows
and I have him
– the thief –
to blame
or thank
for whatever follows.
…
What, then,
will follow?