Barefoot

...only he who sees takes off his shoes.
                                                  --Elizabeth Barrett Browning

prophets preach these words are yours.  

     "feeling is not sin.  

      action is transgression.  

      choose the right."  

they say you'll bear down with rut force
but you are quiet, laying down a quick sting.  

i look up and open my mouth, suck in another thick gasp of air.

you know the kind of shitty host i'd make, 

shifting between well-believing woman and doubting thomas. 

you know your precious paul and i share the same fuck-stuck thorn. still, 

you've made yourself malarial,

put your nose in my flesh to insert the little, faith-full germ inside my blood,

forever.

your fire burns everywhere!

in every bush, in trees,
in his pair of eyes, 

     his lips and bones and hairs that edge the back of his hand. 

     

your fire ignites seeds he smiles and i sew--

we're not planting weeds we'll want to pull.

it is written, Same-sex attraction itself is not a sin, but yielding to it is.

it is written, Love one another.
it is written, Batter my heart, three-personed God.

weariness is bending down any old time you flare up to unbuckle my shoes.