The Non-Believer

This morning

I awoke to my mother

leaning over

me

and shaking

me

we are going to church

she informed

me

A hot

white

brick of hatred

was thrown

through my window

at that moment

and lodged

itself inside

me


I growled like

a wild dog

but with one gunshot

of a glance

I shut up

but continued

to rot

I put on ugly clothes

-my rebellion

we sat in church

the red cloth

pews

hiding the red

scratches

the marks that were

burned into

me

perverse thoughts

ran through

my head

my anger

flared like an ugly rash

we all bowed

our heads

and looked prayerful

while i refused (-my rebellion)

I wouldn’t pray

anyway

so why pretend

But I filed in line

anyway

and ate the

spirit of god

the hypocrisy boiled and

churned

in my stomach

A Meal for Oneself

White plate on roommate’s placemat

“Vintage” brown table and creaky radiator in the corner

The neighbors above us are fighting.

Feet pound pounding on the cap of our ceiling.

Canned tomatoes – out of basil

Fresh or otherwise-

Three shards of dried bay leaf set to simmer

Translucent onions stained glass by the olive oil

That block of parmesan

              C’mon -put your elbow into it

Great shocks of white square salt

And stings of red and black pepper

The palate,

              -does it sing?