When You Confuse His Name with Absolution

Tell me the last time you felt
holy
without his hands on you.

Open your heart like a prayer book
and pull out the rosary beads
one by one;
spill them down the aisle of the church,
make a note of every one that bears his name.

Remember the way your mother
used to remind you
“your body is a temple”
Remember there was no addendum;
no “only when he’s inside of you”.

There is a cross of ash
imbedded in the grey matter of your brain;
it rises to the surface every time
you pray to see him again.

Fat Tuesday laments in shame,
reminds you
it’s a symbol that you have purged yourself of all unclean things.
Instead, light a candle for him.

Tell me the last time you said
“I love you”
without simultaneously asking for forgiveness.

Tell me the last time you felt
holy
without his hands on you.

When You Come to Worship

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:
“Kingdom come,
kingdom come.”

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:
we
are more than than holy,
we
are the life blood.

Frigid

Maybe I want to use you.
Though you are crippled and broken,
I am in mourning
of lack of touching,
empty,
blood rush.

WhatIreallywantistobenearyouagain;sittingsilentlyinyourpresence;Iwashappythen

You think you’re helping me;
I know.
I appreciate the gesture
it’s just I’m cold,
so cold
and I can’t promise I won’t
see you tomorrow
and not want you to kiss me
I can’t promise you anything
not love
or even the world

I just want you to want me.

Not need me.

Not even love me.

But want me,
the way I want you.

Want to be near me,
and to feel me, too.

Boy,
I am here solely to heal your wounds.
Boy,
I will gladly fix you.

Just don’t love me.

I might be your Savior,
but that does not make me holy.