Let us bask in lukewarm waters
and wear rejection like a badge
of honor, my Laodicean lover,
my dark companion in the darkest
night…the Almighty will fret no
matter what and is not our concern.
He is more often absent than present.
The moon is fat and blood-red,
full of omens that are meaningless
as birdsong, as fickle as judgement.
Here, we hide in each other’s pain.
Here, we are made immaculate.

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