Outs

And oh the tiny heads of God
Wrought with Spirit
Purged counterfeit truth.
They had the eyes, ears, and mouth of
The resurrected messiah.

And the monkey paws grasped for
Each oraphice like
The oversexed dig for gold.

God. My peculiar Christ.
Let me jar You like a pill bug
And feed You from the wombs of plants
You loved at first.
And we will play church.
And I will feel just as empty as before.

Except I'll be able to keep You this time
And stop guessing what You are.

Jesus in the shape of
A Roly Poly,
Or microscopic ant.

I would crush you with the weight of my fingers
And calamity.

And in this time of Rumspringa you'd consider it on
Purpose.
Oh, I think it so.
I've been killing You from the start.

King of Israel,
Redeem your captive whore.

Create in me a clean heart.