I lie on the bathroom floor.
I wonder, “What are those marks on the ceiling?”
Shit? Or blood?

Then, I start to think about Christ.
And a forensic analysis by the Pharisees.
And how the bible mentions how he bled.
And how on the crucifix, he always has a loin cloth on.
How dead people tend to shit themselves.
I wonder, “What’s that running down his leg?”

I turn my gaze to the space behind the toilet.
I discover, “That’s where my wedding ring went.”