My Jesus Fear
Been trying to resurrect but I
think I’ve forgotten how—
all the perfect moments I missed.
You shoulda seen my boss’s face
when I soared straight upward in
a white dress, unshaven.
Are those flowers in your hair?
No, they’re thorns. I could kick
moneylenders from the Temple.
I’ve walked barefoot through
Manhattan. All I’ve gotten is cuts.
I rub my hands in a room full of bodies
stand back and wait for something to glow
I listen. I breathe. But the only new
heartbeat I hear is my own.