I am found guilty of 'Reverence at an Inopportune Time'

Tom Petty comes on the radio and
we think of each other.
We think of your navy-blue sheets.
Jesus dies again and
we eat him again.
The meat was tender but
you were a vegetarian.
Your velvet navy-blue sheets
smelled like death everynight,
smelled like daffodils and death everynight.
Then they tore down the door with
fire-axes and crowbars, barking
orders in a language that
no one needed to understand.
They pulled me from your navy sheets
and doused me in lemon-scented bleach
in order to loosen my grip and my tongue.
They brought me to the empty
interrogation room with the
concrete walls, two way mirror and
the table from IKEA named Herman.
Now I am here, wishing that I remembered
all the names for my furniture.
The man with wide shoulders in the deep black uniform
with the golden buttons and icy trim
slaps me across the face, again and again,
backhand and forehand, palm then wedding ring,
until I confess that I don't even know
what a daffodil smells like.