A Conversation on Coming Out

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned—
I worship a woman who walks like wine,
like the wedding, like blood in the river.

You tied me to the altar, but she grew me 
a garden, plucked the fruit herself.
I saw how easily the skin punctured.
How easily the world started anew
when the serpent slithered away.

Don’t tell me to resist her demon
when she makes me feel like God.
Like Paradise is right there
if I only grab it by the mane.
Leave me in the den with open jaws.
I promise I won’t
fend for myself.

I never belonged here, but
I belong to her
and that makes her a church
with stained-glass windows
storied with us.

I’m not asking you to
save me anymore, father.
I’m asking if you remember
what it’s like to fly in fire.
I’m asking if you remember
what it’s like to burn.