I used to thread needles through the clouds
Piecing together the sky with airplane thoughts
I’d pray, murmured amens, heavy enough to sink ships
My hands gathered rust while I worshipped
Beneath a pulpit’s iron, steady stare.
Words hanging like nooses in the dark
Until lurking congregations devoured
Every pagan thought whole.

I never ceased pleading with the stars to bring me home
The more I stare into the universe
The more it looks like oceans full of tar
And it appears I am

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