MY MOTHER IS THE ROCK,
THE MOUNTAIN, SISYPHUS
and god not me
I am only a person
like any other
cursed to witness
my mother’s suffering
to watch now from the ground
relieved to no longer be on her back
and having been on her back
to grieve both for how I burdened her
and for how she never let go
of that stupid rock
THE WICKEDNESS OF GOD
and when they were enslaved he meant to step in raise
hell fire smite and plague but then lifting his fist
he heard them cries that hooked something
he hadn’t felt till then or if he had felt had tried
not to feel to deny as humans deny themselves
thinking it will make them good—but
having no need for goodness he just
stood there tightening his fist so that the nails
spoke crescents into his palms
while the music took him you think
he hated negroes but I swear he favors them
hated the brutality really closed his eyes
so he wouldn’t have to see it happen same way he did
when they were dragging his son bloody onto the cross
THE WICKEDNESS OF GOD
when they were dragging his son bloody
behind the pick up truck the crowd gathering
along the side of the road and around the tree
waiting to get their piece god didn’t bother pretending
he would cut the boy loose or even that he should
he had become practiced in cruelty and knew
how this boy’s mother could sing a church down
if she was hurting good enough and god had been hurting
for her to loose even one good wail and doesn’t everyone
deserve a treat? would you feel better
if I said he had a hell warming for the crowd
who cheered as the boy begged for his life?
what precisely do you want from a father
determined to beat his own wickedness from his child?
THE WICKEDNESS OF GOD
SkyDaddy a bum ass nigga a no child support paying
ass nigga just the absentiest father I mean nigga had mary
scrambling to find a husband to explain the bump popping
like a planet beneath her breast had shorty squatting
over hay screaming while the sheep bay and the ox shit
and she shit and not a midwife in sight to clean her up
or catch that poor baby jesus falling out with the breeze
cutting through the barn like to shiver him to death
and his daddy supposed to be all powerful
SkyDaddy must’ve really hated the mother of his child
and his child to be that negligent and that’s the nigga
I’m supposed to get up early every Sunday to stump for?
I swear you holy hoes must like being on your knees
cause SkyDaddy sure do keep you there
THE WICKEDNESS OF GOD
bid me at thy thrown of mercy find a sweet release
—from Pass me not O gentle savior
kneel and let skydaddy keep you
bound deep in contrition
let him wind his rope limb
to torso take his bit
bite down and be reigned in
you have been wild
bad even now lower your eyes
and meditate on your filth—
you are bottomless
a hole eager for its filling
be thee filled with his spirit
ridden from mercy to mercy
grace to grace be thee
saved from your unbelief
THE WICKEDNESS OF GOD
waiting for the best treats from the table
Jesus knelt at David’s feet while he ate
opening his mouth like a good boy
each time David offered him food
from his fingers when Jesus’ knees
went to sleep under his body’s pressure
he would lean into the pain
feel his legs flutter—filled to the brim
with trapped stars flickering
their light away inside his muscle—
if you asked Jesus to describe devotion
he would paint this exact scene
his legs fading to black his mouth
open to receive whatever his king offered
BRAT ASPIRATIONAL
even when I top I bottom
I fulsome with gifts you have to fuck
out of me name tame and make me
your pet don’t think I’ll work for it
from the bottom I top I moan you
into giving me exactly what I wan’t
and I wan’t baby oh yes I wan’t—
that strap is so big so deliciously dicky
may as well have a brain at the tip
the way its tapping all the right spots
ticking every one of my boxes check check
I’m not waiting to cum so don’t ask
just keep steady baby—go on push me
we’re so so very close—
LUNATIC LIAR LORD
left of my mind
I sit beneath the right hand of god
at Jesus’ feet like a cat only pretending
at humbleness still given to devotion I purr
and move between his ankles
begging for any hint of affection
Men being men god the father and Jesus
talk over me and I steal secrets like a slave
thinking bout burning the house down
Jesus bends to stroke his hand along my spine
and his fire is there
shut up in my bones
now you see me hissing and shouting
like a thing possessed and I am
a prophet struggling to transmute
the power of the lord
into something bite sized and sweet
so that you too might eat
YOU KNOW YOU DOWN BAD
WHEN YOU CALL JESUS
typa man who thinks he’s in love
after one good fuck and is
all over town with anyone sweet enough
to smile and say I need you—
still let him sing your praises for a night—
spread and let him drink till his thirst
governs your body let him tease you apart—
no use now in being held together—
come undone then let him beg to be inside you
like it’s his first time after a million first times
accept him not so you might end his suffering
but because it fills your need makes your body
the body of christ his only salvation from the will
of the flesh be anointed by the fusion of sweat
and know its you who is holy your lust the cleansing fire
the abolition of hell on earth let him thank you
let him kiss your feet and sweetly pray in your name
amen
