sweet malady of christ

fallen asleep on the lawn
in the sun, and then the moon
crazy, mother saw i was

kissing the face of the cat
a man passing by suggested
i give him that love instead

gripping the grass in each palm
until it burned, i said nothing

but i thought, being a pimp
is a malady, my shame coursing through
with a strange itch on my thighs

i was hot against christ, then
but somehow the pimp looked like
he suffered as much as

i used to feel a thrill when the cat
would tire of my petting
and bite on my hands

i thought about christ
getting whipped on his back

now, the past is filled up
with the little holes i dug
and planted the man and all men
inside of me

fallen asleep on the lawn
all the while i was knowing Him
now, if anyone meets me
i introduce them to Him


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