I want to be baptized
Though not by God’s hands
I want to become an entire ocean
And feel my body crash onto shore
As the tides come in
I will fade into their timing
Because to be an ocean
Is to be a ruler
Of boundless horizons
Of blue
And bodies
Clinging to the depths
Of someone they’ve been trying to uncover
Though remnants lay
My soul travels onward
To different seas
All parts of me

It’s only ***
Per the instructions
That are always set aside
Labeled as a “Hazard”
Labeled “Keep Away From Children”
Labeled “Call 1-800-222-1222”
I am at work
She asks me for help
“I’m looking for…”
And I respond “I’m also looking”
In the dressing room are strewn clothes
My bedroom looks the same
Yet I clean
But in my room
I can’t seem to bend or hang
Because it’s another reminder
Of something that could have been
The women shopping pay no mind
Even though I know
They scream just as much as I do
Because garments
Are the only tangible weapon
To cover the disgraces
That others often ensue
But it’s only ***
And my rage is only a symptom
Of something only God has made
Because only His blood
Is ours to bear

a pit can only grow
when chemical weathering is
its only mechanism
burrowed in chest cavities
a home for ants
to dig and delve
into my lungs
and the soot blackens
what was once pink and ripe and lush
i think of hemingway
and his shadows
when he said there is a nice clean place
and i think back to where heaven was
even then amongst the gravel
but each day
i am met with the agony of ant bites
lingering and red and itchy
and the pit keeps growing
like an epidemic devoid of control
so i sit here
in silence
and now i let the ants take their turn to feed on me
because it is only fair
to let them devour me
in the way i have devoured you

I feel you cradle me, and I watch,
as you set aside warmed milk,
onto the bruised counter. 
I tried yelling out to God,
but you thought it best
to hush me
with a molded pacifier.
I spat on you, in resistance
as my mouth is left
with the taste of
iniquity;
my face, crimson and 
boiling,
and yet, you decide
to sing your hymns.
I responded in Tongues,
in hopes of your praise.
But, you only took
my words as babble.
You take me to the den,
to lay my body;
though I hung,
and spread my arms,
as did He
while persecuted.
Once placed,
you swaddle me
with the wool 
of Abraham's sacrifice.
I then decide
to sit myself
up,
my back pressed against 
chipped, wooden bars.
My eyes averted
to the heavens
and with vengeance
I spurt out:
Do we, only we,
praise the creator?
Or does the creator
praise us?

It is hard to say
Why these strings
of three were intertwined.
But for some
mysterious and
miraculous reason,
God made
sure we were alive -
Just in time,
To hold hands,
And pray,
amidst the fog.

And now let us sit eye to eye
   As our gaze pierces parallel
To the chairs below us
   Let us reach our hands
Across a small, square table
   And walk across the Great Wall of China
Where we can meet again
   For our last embrace

And as the silver rain streams
     And as the birds begin to allay
I remember spring
And all her glory
    Like the small puddles
        Mirroring the grey
A world is nestled there
    Soft and blooming