A Prayer for Gladys
Lord Jesus come into my heart before the water has boiled out. Change didn’t come. No more sweat in the sighs of his liquor, no more oleo on burns. Fat from hymnals, a woman’s rights got no mountain. So Lord, come as you please, take my breath, the tender of your miner’s fingers raising my back like an eyebrow. My body, a cleaned sheet left pinned for days, falling into the milk of your chest.