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Christians and Lions
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Skinny Fists
Blue smoke and cider sounds
curled above our heads like tongues of fire
under wires in a big
City Hall stands tall and every pregnant pause
is giving birth to answers
I can't understand.
'We're only starting a racket 'cause you've started a racket!'
I scream, 'We only want to level this city because
things are so uneven!' But I don't think they can hear me.
Like hot breaths between my praying hands
could make my fingers glow,
like the psalms between my palms are all
I'll ever need to know,
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I count out hymns for hims and hims and hers and hers
and hims-for-hearses, turn to face the wind and silence
flying sins in words-like-curses.
'Church and state had their day in the centuries before,'
I say, 'The future is unwritten if we hold what can erase.'
But I still get sad ripping up ads that the Marines
send to friend every kid in my family.
('Cause I can afford to.)
I told her once, 'There's a great line in this song I heard,
But I can't tell you unless something really big happens to us.'
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