Jesus’ stained glass
face and velvet tears 
on the altar 

when I dug thumbs
deep into my ears to forget 
His name 

pulled out a line of contempt
woven around a wedding ring

I pushed fingertips into my eyelids
while you told me I held the world
in my tiny pink hands

Psalms became paragraphs of 
Noonday Demon in the pew
when sermons
couldn't sustain me

Pray to a mother pristine as Mary, 
but the one I found
clawed holes into her feet

There is no nightmare, 
only a never-ending dream, 
only a figment of my 

my palms scream
when the creases refuse to meet 
	but run parallel silently 
into my cup

Perception is the shattered glass
of a grandfather clock
ground into the floorboards
of my childhood home

and I’m holding the bat

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: