Microculture: Hookup

My body.
His body.
You can't make a house become a home.

angerprayer

Dear God,

I come to you a humble queer
Who doesn't visit your house too often
I come to you as Lilith's blood and Adam's clay
Holding a prayer for protection
Between my folded hands
I come to you afraid

I am scared because
There are people who know you well
Liberated by your love
That want to bind people like me in law
They imprison my skin in paper
They pollute my blood with ink

They speak in two tongues
Shifting their words in doublespeak
We are (not) here to punish you
We are here to protect our beliefs
But when it comes time to pay the price
They never offer up their own tithes
They gather their money
From the pockets of our lives

What does their protection look like for me?
How does their protection play out in my community?

I still fall in love with men who are scared to touch me
With men who replace romance with repentance
I am not blood and body when they look at me
I am sermon and hellfire
I am the cold condemnation of a pew on Wednesday night and Sunday morning
I am goat and serpent
I am an empty vessel hollowed out for vicarious atonement

They demonize me for fucking
When honestly
Most of the time
I'm just working up the nerve
To hold a lover's hand
In front of a public
Who celebrates me
Only
When I feel sad and gay enough
To write a poem about it

They don't treat me like a person
They treat me like a lesson
And they pay for their tuition
From the pockets of my life

Dear God,
I didn't bring you offering
I didn't bring you tithes
I come to you angry as hell
With a question tucked within my clenched fists.
Who needs protection from who?
Who needs protection from who?

Amen,
Amen,
Amen.