I have sat in this one spot
for so long
I have grown roots deep in the ground here.

"Tell me, is it better to rip myself out
yet leave a piece of me
buried

Or is it better to stay,
and grow leaves of old age
in the same dirt
I was born in?"

I pray at night to the God who planted me
and all I hear back
is the wind.

The ground is
littered with orange peels
and the stain of citrus
is in the air.

Tender and juicy is the love,
I share my slices with you

Here I lay
at morrow's feet,
begging for yesterday's grace
to fill me once more,
so I may face the dawn.

I want religion wrapped in flesh.

I taste communion wine
and holy bread
when I kiss her.

I watch her bathe in holy water,
as the smell of frankincense and purity
wafts in the steam.

I see her crown
placed gently on the sink,
awaiting the return
of the one true queen.

I hear hymns
when she asks for a towel.

I think to myself
that she is God,
and keeps this from me
like a coy secret
only she can know.

She is religion wrapped in flesh.

I cup you in my hands
and imagine
that the size of your heart
is that of a fingernail;

Sometimes I worry
my love for you is so great
that it will crush you.

I break dawn
with a sledgehammer,
splintering the night
and scattering the stars,

and with hands made of stains,
I spend my days
piecing it back together.

The scent of autumn
was woven between
strands of her hair.