when I woke up this morning we were white

snow-covered and naked, ivory

carved as statues but warm, a breeze

chest cavity imprinted by a golden cross

IC XC engraved on forearms

we had red flowers embroidered into our skin

dark hair providing the contrast our souls need

no lust here, just eyes crusted by sand

softly moving over each other like pythons

it’s ten thirty and I make my black coffee

the steam entwines with cigarette smoke

eyes glazed, reading a book on sin and redemption

someday I’ll make it to church on time.