SERMON (FOR THOSE WHO SURVIVE)

If every day above
ground is blessed,
then when do we sip
a wine that does
not flow from the hungry
crown of our bellies?

Where does this toothless
vineyard lie? The one I can
shake free from, free
of the quake that lets
loose upon what remains
of this curious flesh. I crawl out

of this cage, elbows bloodied &
so fine,
so aged with the sky’s
knees in my back. My throat
flutters, loosens to make space
like a prison emptying its cells
into the earth below
he earth. & here

I am, miles away & leagues
above, watching my cousins drown
in someone else's comfort;
another's desire
for luxury. & here I am, I stay
cursed to watch the lexicon
grow & grow & grow

          & I found god
in every throne I lust,
          I shook
god in every breath
I hushed. & whisper:

I’m king
          so long as I’m able/
I’m good
          so long as I’m feared/
I’m full
          so long as I’m stable/
I’m prey
          so long as I’m
here.

This poem first appeared in Drunk in a Midnight Choir on September 15th, 2016. To view the poem as it originally appeared, visit the publication here.