hymn

in the cathedral for outlaws

the buckle of your bible belt sings

silver as birch leaves before the flood

and just as loudly

and where i am 

white-knuckled as the paper bark

waiting on the thunder-smacks

and the i love yous

and where you are

the calm before the storm 

blue-gray books of revelations 

in your ears and in your eyes--

may our mouths move 

in the shape of novenas;

may our dirt-covered feet 

point eastward