Bring your church to the key – back rooms –
chimney sweep – flushed with soot –
black like cats – deep in Winter sleep.
Bring your arm to my ball – and chain
me up – downstairs – I
am a slave
to black waves of adultery –
and let’s not leave out the China, please? – In
the hutch, where dead mice sleep.
Take me to your temple – here, now go
to sleep – shackled to me –
wrapped in spite –
I won’t drop or swallow – your metal is safe
against my chest – One of us
is naked on the inside –
Christ would like how we make it here –
every Winter –
while the cats let the mice sleep.
I like this poem a lot. I read it 3 times and I saw something different every time. “Bring your church to the key” pulled me right in…