It came as it did for Abraham,,,,,,,,,,
In the muted hour,
Weeding between Lamb or lake
Lamb or ram
Your son
My mother
In the corner gripping the rosary.
An omen for the bomb
Buried in my gut.
The nurse will find it or the soul will burn
There is no choice
The son shall burn.
The body will rot
Under
an overhead LED that is white but feels yellow
Because
You are not alone.
In a still, small voice that follows the wind,
To die, or to trust
There is no choice.
It will call You to the mountain,
You have never climbed before,
That You shall climb again,
I will climb again
Beckoning You
Take up on the wood
Put it on Your son
Put it on My limbs
Organs gnawing their way out of the soft-bellied stomach Eyes like a flame of fire
You are not alone.
I am seventeen
Leaking out bile On that durable cotton-polyester blend
Why does it smell like a hospital
On Your hands
Your eyes
They do not form tears
because they are
not eyes
They are
not eyes
But the lamp of the body
Shit is pouring like rain, the windows are black
I just learned about the rapture
This is not the rapture
Under
an overhead LED that is white but feels yellow
because You are not alone.
This is what it looks like right before,,,
Right before
You You
You hear it before the blunder
I will hear it before the blunder
You are not alone.
You are not alone.
The angel will call out to the raised arm,
Veins
Bursting, swollen and gargantuan
Scars
From the needles in the forearm
Raised arm
They rest there like stamps, pagans, like the scriptures, That’s!
An omen!
Before Jesus
Comes
Take instead the ram
There is none to harm There is none to harm
There is none to harm To harm
In a still, small voice,
There is none
To harm
I swear by myself
As the stars in the sky and as
The sand on the seashore
it
will
embrace
you quietly,
Me
You
YouYouquietly
Me quietlyquietly
QuietlyandthenAndthen
andthenAndthenallandthenall
Andthenalland then all and then all
at once.