i want to tell you about
the candles i light on my
dresser

they're made of bees wax 
& burn sweet beside a small
dish of rose hips & calendula 

i used to be catholic
& sometimes i accidentally still am

you would find mass intriguing

they would notice us both

with our monstrous bodies
trying to fit in the wooden pew

did i ever tell you that 
my grandmother couldn't go  back
to saint catherine's 
until she got her marriage nullified?

that she made do with the lutherans
&  their red doors

what kind of religion do you make?

i've seen you crouched 
on your knees sending dried leaves
down the creek beneath 
the bridge with all the
graffiti

are you sending them to gods
down stream?

do you believe that the water
flows into their mouths?

gaping open like
baptismal foundations 

maybe the river flows back 
to us instead 

did you you know 
that the ancient egyptians
floated down the river to get
their hearts weighted?

what if instead we
floated back to ourselves 

like waves chewing tedious
mouthfuls of sand

i came to you wondering 
what kinds of gods there
are for creatures like us

what ceremonies we can build 
between us

do you wash the red out of
your eyes?

i was confirmed & the bishop 
made a cross on my forehead 
with the consecrated oils

let me show you how i bless
honeysuckle nectar 

& milk-white rubber tree blood 

there are gods for us
i'm telling you

there must be