skeletal reactions seared to
apocalyptic backdrops i’m a
seven-word apology from
meeting jesus himself but
the chill down my spine says
otherwise

i’m cutting away from blue-
walled rooms and i’m
slitting the wrist of a
secondhand guitar just
to escape the taste of
soot ground into my pillow

he burned there you know
his bones are still
smoldering

i’ve taken to slipping into
plasticine fantasies where
rubber runs in rivers and water is
scarcely potable
girls wear rings to
signify their single
and married women rarely
wear anything at all

can you hear him screaming while
we sleep in the filth? it may
be worth waking up guilty to sleep
closer to the boy who spoke in
white collar facsimile too softly
to be taken seriously because
he’s wearing a ring that’s the color
of the end

sometimes i feel the wind’s
kiss on my cheek like a lover or a
mother or the boy too beautiful
for this world but too
ugly to be elsewhere
and i’ve counted all the
brushes shallow touches i’ve
catalogued them all but the
love is cheap and easy like
apologies so i
down it like a shot and
crease the bottom of my beliefs

and moses take a deep breath
before casting his staff and
parting the sea or did
he simply slip beneath the waves
and quietly request it grant him
passage? there is no
answer when i query the
ashes falling on
my sheets
it comes in turns
like the earth and it learns
patience before breaking
and i smile because the
ether loves to see him burn