The Divine Law

1. 
i went looking for Sodom & found soot,
the floor of the world: my grandmother's ash tray.
as words for the wise, the angles always come
in disguise. their blue bodies & their bleached teeth. 
knocking on the bathroom stall doors 
at rest stops across arizona. the gas station:
the queer space takes over. paul echoing: men committing 
shameless acts with other men. what can't be purified 
with fire? what i love about the story of the Sodomites
is how god burned us down & here we are. as far as i remember
we never read this story in church. the angels knock
at my bed room door & i don't let them in because
i'm not hospitable. the unnatural children are often
born out of heat; cigarette buds growing legs to run.
2.
we make our own angels. we build the city back.
here is where the sun goes, tweezers to sit it
back into our eyes. the men who survived are blind
but we tell them it looks beautiful, they caress stone 
& weep. does it hurt when i touch you here?
the back seat of the car is a boulevard when you 
lay down like that. there's no angels there's no angels, 
only the sirens & Lot & his wife. They escaped the fire
& left us to our indulgence bodies. you burn me like brick,
like don't forgive me father. each time we find each other
i turn off the light, we became blind men to build Sodom
back from the dirt. i take handfuls of you. stone &
sand. eyes closed, my hands through your hair, a forest, 
all these skyscrapers. what a city, what a city. 
our angels: fine dust, grit in your teeth,
the neon ceiling of the gas station bathroom.