this is no place for words
here
in the hallow
pines elder
fall to come
down
by the crick
side slipping
over rock tome and day—
you
have to answer God’s riddle
to
cross the bridge to my family’s lake
walk over water
know my bell.
summon
me
dear
Jesus
we will make love
and shake Heaven from the
stars
overflow the universal
container
with our blood
viscous
transformative
mercury
makes
us mad
with
top hat fever—
Québécois hiver
questions our queer
compulsions
half naked winter
this August
mulls on our youth—
will
you marry me?
you have already carried my hand
through the darkest mile
in the hours before dawn
you feel natural
undeniable
you blind men with no eyes
holes
where
God would be
flags
to
mark their triumphs
over
His great pasture.
Mother Mary’s hair is sacred
in His temple
we
steward
careful
tend the pure dirt
as our child
Bible borne of me
come screaming
between my Holy Trinity
divine
triangle
in
utero
placenta
devoured
upon expulsion—
ravenous green devil
beside us
the
delivery room
waits
in
the hospital
for each new born socket
to
announce their presence.
on the hill
Jesus practices
his weekly sermon
on the birds
they
warn him of Rome—
He will go in peace
to suffer the sea of a thousand arrows.
the spiritual realm is
fragile too
the
last red drum
over
Ghana.
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