su peinado de fuego poem #23

secret arms
a hymn,
secret palms,
naked calm anxiety

I preach to parts of me, unwed,
a manikin
an effigy
seared,
zaftig,
frail
in her enormity.
failed matrimony.

love me,
love me,
love me,
sedate.

this body church
this pew
this decree of glory
this sacrament
this purgatory
this redemption
this eucharist
this apostle
this soul
this rapture
this gift of tongues
this temple
this oath
this limbo

headache withdrawals
and i am born again.

temples oiled
with virgin hands
while I sit on my wetness
while I sit on the space between my smallness and their whiteness.
and when I say whiteness,
i mean chastity
while my middle throbbed
with anticipation
exquisite to have such clean hands on my disgrace
oh forgive me, young barren sheep
i want your fur
to rub my flesh on your fur
to have your face on mine
not yet here.
where do you go when you’re not here?
where does your mouth go when it’s not whispering biblical poetry at me?
where do you die, where do you sleep?
where does your doctrine get wiped clean?
where do you taste yourself?
where do you pretend?

meanwhile, i am left to the coop
i am left to the vile
you are the immaculate collection
you are like a prayer
you,
rescue me.

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