Emptying Town
-- after Provincetown
Each fall this town empties, leaving me
drained, standing on the dock, waving bye-
bye, the white handkerchief
stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus
rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny,
the way he points to it. I'm afraid
the way I miss you
will be this obvious. I have
a friend who everyone warns me
is dangerous, he hides
bloody images of Jesus around my house
for me to find when I come home -- Jesus
behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked
into the mirror. He wants to save me
but we disagree from what. My version of hell
is someone ripping open his
shirt & saying,
Look what I did for you.
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