not as I do

for holy water crosses  
sinners' bowed confessions  
stiffening those shepherds  
who love
and loathe low their flocks  
with preachers screaming hellfire    
in our Alabama nightmares  
we pray - a mouse in the pew  
hoping open the sky's iron door    
and they call us John  
because we prophesy when the apocalypse  
storms through our veins  
speak in tongues of honeycomb  
and locust    
split visions of past and future  
all playing out at once    
our visions blazing desolation  
boiling, roiling desecration    
staining every form of life    
in implications of resurrection    
and forthcoming salvation  
we pray - we, a mouse at the pulpit  
for the four corners of the earth    
while there on bloody knees  
with clean hands  
our hungry words    
they tumble in our throat    
and turn to gauze    
inside our mouth
Written by Jestalessa
Published | Edited 17th Jun 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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