being

i tried to understand the goodness in you.
i tried to hold it in my hand,
but it burned a hole right through my palm.

now everything i try to hold
slips right through.


i always
get it wrong.


i drag my belly full of exodus
under that gaping yellow wound,
that exposed geode in the sky.

god bleaches the bones of angels.
god makes photosynthesis possible
so that we can place flowers at each other's graves.

i've realized
that i don't need you to be true.

i think
i just need you

to be.