Emptying Town

Each fall this town empties, leaving me

drained, standing on the dock, waving bye-

bye, the white handkerchief

stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus


rips open his shirt

to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny,

the way he points to it. I’m afraid

the way I miss you


will be this obvious. I have


a friend who everyone warns me

is dangerous, he hides

bloody images of Jesus around my house


for me to find when I come home—Jesus

behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked


into the mirror. He wants to save me

but we disagree from what. My version of hell

is someone ripping open his

shirt & saying,


look what I did for you.

Curtido por:
Biblioteca Poeta, 2025