Jesuit

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Sometimes I wish I believed in Jesus

or God

solemn savior somewhere

past the moon


For my shame

buried, like a splinter, 

too deep to self-extract 

He'd wield the tweezers


I'd admire His workmanship

subtle, purposeful details;

magic marker freckles

that appear in the sun


But I'm not his, only my own 

sloppy body,

melted mind

a fleeting cosmic accident





My Year of Unrest: a collection of poems I wrote in 2020Where stories live. Discover now