i was baptized
by an adjustable shower head
that was set to
fast massaging pulse
when i blessed it
for beating
blackened rivers
from crossing
my open pores

there is nothing holy
in bloodshot eyes
shaking shoulders
and violent gasps

but i did kneel.
i did
with a curved back
with a bowed head
against a dripping faucet that
dug deep into my crown
and i clasped my hands
against my sunken breast
and instead
was swallowed by the porcelain shoulders
that i once prayed would carry me to the surface.

and i rose still unclean
and i lay still unborn
and i am still
gasping
for air.

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aumaine said: You’re getting to be such a wonderful poet, Mads. Your stuff is really really a joy to read.
mywritehand posted this

my write hand

stalled salvation

- February 15 -