Embarrassment tugs his eyes to the
left, cradling his infant courage.
He is new skin – crawling
for Jesus – drowning
in sin.
My own infant, white lipped,
sleeps like a giant next
to my hip. My blood
is metallic lead
leaking out.
The scent of iron is dark and heavy.
Mary cycles through every
woman, he reminds me.
I know. Serpents
slither – then
go.
He is the color of silence – naked eyes
following mine, stalking my quiet
like prey. His sharp honesty
brings deep claw marks
across my chest. I
still beat
life. His eyes lift,
hungry. My flesh is real,
sincerity exposed. He prays over
me, Jesus take this pain.
It was an accident, he is just.
