by Brianna Sanow

 

I was baptized in a bin of recycled water,

brimming with the faults of those doused before me

Maybe I do need Jesus; or perhaps,

I just need a lobotomy

 

I tried to talk to God, but the line was busy

I pressed two for Español,

and the devil himself answered,

explaining that the Lord doesn’t speak Spanish

 

Humanity familiar and humanity alien

siphons one another’s spirits up their nostrils

The repercussion of free will

is that we can become each other’s sadistic gods

 

I will not espouse a doctrine disgraced by promises of jeweled crowns,

or hounded by a demon at the heels of human desire

In the darkness, I will scan the colorless constellation

and await the far-flung flash tucked in the crepuscule

 

Maybe religion has left a bruise on us all,

or a rash that won’t cease to spread

If Christ could turn water into wine

can we not transform hatred into love?