the refusal

an afterthought, maybe too late,
wrapping around fingers-- now tentacles--
sticking to roof of mouth, pink of baby
scalp. Were we really born without
hair?
I did not come in for this, did not
expect this at the cliff's edge.

The weapon of marriage

This is the spear, the tip of sharp
that stabs, that shifts the vine of
intestine. This is the escape you
didn't want, didn't pay 5.99 in shipping
and handling for. A box without a lid,
with no way of closing you in
or out. This is the hot spice of God coming
at you from every direction, pinning
you up against every wall. This is the grip
he uses for the grape-- to squeeze the wine
from the skin.

There are other ways of making people into ghosts

a bucket of paint, poverty,
a picture of Jesus, biographies,
unforgiveness, not paying
the electric bill, the passing
of heat, a sliver in the heart.

Evolution

In the beginning,
God slept and wept
and pushed and
birthed in bloody
birth,
the heavens and
the earth...and
the tree that killed
the Adam and the Eve
in all of us.
And in one final
push and scream,
the afterbirth
of mercy.

today: I'd rather be an Atheist

This may be a bucket of sorrow,
or sorry, that tips and spills
on the counter, on my dress.
even a diamond can't clean
the mess. maybe I feel bitter,
maybe I feel ruined. Guilt turns
on like a fire, but repentance is
the warmth winter beats away.
I'm jealous of people who keep
their hands in their pockets.

I've got you hanging around my neck

the peace that brings the eyelash to
the cheek, to float to the floor... this is
the night the babe was born. And all
the angels sang, or spoke, lightning.
the temperature Mary held in
the womb, was deity, or
the placenta getting ready to push out.
the knee of Christ, the tiny Messianic elbow--
the parts that Mary treasured in her heart.
a king to crown the pocket of creation.