“tell me your confessions, child” –
once upon a time, god reached out for me
but your god isn’t mine, Father
and you will call me a betrayer
but my god fills my heart and my body
tender kisses turn to trembling touches
where we began, the cemetery where you prayed
and she pressed me against the willow tree
told me in whispers what the world meant to her
and then told me what I was about to see;
golden hills and brightly lit stars
I had never seen my life flash before my eyes
but she played the scenes in slow motion
like a master pianist
and I was happy to call her master –
home was a rancher, dust and pastel
sunflowers and stunted bushes, screen door banging in the wind
her windows flung open to let the sweet summer drift in
where she had me beg for her mercy
but I wanted her wrath;
closet door shanked my shoulders but it couldn’t hold me hostage
I wrapped my legs around her waist
she was a god, holding up my world
but what happened when atlas let go of the real thing?
she would catch it, of course
spider hands chilled me, then thrilled me
she said I would have a bad reputation
but I had never wanted to be smote so badly
tell me more about why I can’t go to church anymore
young god, hold my life above your head
let me kiss up your thighs, stumble into your heaven
don’t let me stay human, don’t let me drown in the world
I can’t believe it, Father, for I did sin
and you let me go, I left the box
mother mary with a glint in her eye
she knew what I was about, virgin was just another name for careful
she left you on my lap to remind me where I came from
the apple of their eye, snake in their ribs
shake the tears from my breast, lick them clean
open my soul and wear me like a light
walk with me, humanity beneath my feet
write to the devil, tell him we’ll be by
and he’ll prepare a banquets for the ghosts we chase there
but the only time I feel alive is in the moments you have lost
your vision to me
your aspirations were to let the seven seas crash into me
build an ark and sail us away
two steps ahead, we became a legend and suddenly the tables turned
the bottom of the barrel was your kiss
tender and poisonous
perhaps the Father was right, but not about me
bruised egos live in that chapel, don’t tame me with your words
kept down from the best things in life because you were too scared
to take what belonged to you, worried you would fall when you tried to fly
and I take it all back to the days in the cemetery
pressed against the willow tree.