Reclamation

Breath stifled, I 

get up off the pew 

half way through 

the sermon and move 

out the chapel door

to stretch distance

between me and 

the guy at the pulpit, 

dangling the dazzle 

of a far-off heaven,  

strangling my frailty

with his clean 

white fist.

In exhale, I peel

his fingers off

my throat as I walk 

down the long 

carpeted hallway 

to the other end

of God’s house 

where She and I

rendezvous

in a bathroom stall,

where heaven breathes

on the throne of grace

as She takes my palm,

rubs my flawless heart.

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Published in Say More: At Last She Writes It, 2023