I.After killing your god, hotbox the gun smoke.
Cough out any vestigial prayer.
Remember that spooky shit Ole Boy hissed
mid-smite, bullet-plowed, curling away. It’s true.
You belong to the fire now.
II.Lose your Bible—
book of napkins to fold
so the hungry busy their hands.
Stop circling garden gates for scraps
when a harvest splits your hips.
III.Your booty a whole altar call—
Blessed Queers are born screaming.
Become the most honest song they will ever sing
(or the worst or both or never mind).
IV.When street preacher rebukes your thighs TV
after-school-specials your mouth Adam
tweets fuck that nappy-headed ribsplint Snake
primes the bite you die inside, say
my own my own my own my own.
V.Choir everything. Tenor the roses.
Alto the mulch. Mezzo the flies.
Bass your bed, mountain they go tell on.
VI.Disenchant the talismans of gods you love and leave:
spit flesh back to wafer,
left-swipe eyes you caught and kept,
feed them to the cross pyre,
the worlds and little deaths you build
with just your breath and hands,
silhouettes that singe the walls
with new maps to salvation
till even the floorboards buck
and cry Jesus.
Even the windows blush
and say amen.