Loving a Sinful Woman: A Poem
How the Holy Spirit convicts
Starve, beloved; allow me
to put this cut down your dry slit:
die at my sword and stumble
all seventy-seven times you try me—
let me do the honor of razing
your digs down to drown every bit of gut
whole as the spills of your inanity
stew for the crows to devour
hear my ringing rage ignite wildfires
at the altar where you first left me to go sip free
-flowing wine, men, swallows, spinning
blood-sworn promises into promiscuity
watch my breath engulf your womb
in my all-consuming presence, flaring
from the hems of your gown to wipe off
the very garland I’ve furnished on your head
howl and I won’t hear how swiftly
the gale scatters the vestiges of your ash
-swollen feet, just face the ground
-up dirt you’ve become and look at you
thirst—it is their pleasure to watch you
disintegrate the way I did, how you’d burn
for milk and my…
