Anna and I leave Jesus on the cross, on the jumbotron.
The blood pooled. The blood cooled. The bloodbath cleansed the flock.
I watch Anna from the passenger seat.
She's silent and salvation.
Rain falls in diamonds on the windshield,
bouquets of streetlights turn the transparents
to rubies, to emeralds.
She turns off the headlights.
Running half-blind on abandoned interstate,
Anna's silent, Anna's grace, Anna's forgiveness.
No more lamps overhead.
No more exits to be found.
Only Anna and I at peace in the void.