Votive

In the spirit of fortune-telling that characterizes my new poetry book, here's a random selection.

 

Votive #32

I didn't write the hoax.

I scratch over the revelation.

Words fall on my head like stones on the roof,
a crack on my tongue, smoke in my palms.

Divinity cleans up after the devil.
When I write my bible, heaven will flood the bathroom floor.