Peel me back,
let the choirs clean the dust from my lungs
if only so I can exhale a hallelujah.
Turn my body into hymnal and run your fingers free form over the notes.
I want to be more than a crescendo.
Make sure the light reflects the stain glass rainbows on my pages.
Make sure I am held like lamb,
but revered as lion.
Hear the choir sing:
Let your mind roll under the pews like lovesick children.
Let your knees crack the prayer bench.
Let my tongue be your altar, and I will gently
throw you down.
An echoing aria,
Holy Ghost, God, and Son.
Hail Mary when she recites the only abiding truth written for the likes of us:
are more than than holy,
are the life blood.