#13

Sacrament

I buried a soul in the Westboro
bathtub that I used to bathe in. In
fact the very one where I was baptized.
Where I baptized my children.

The words on the church marquee
read: "He is Risen!"

The words on the church marquee
read: "Salvation. Don't leave Earth without it."

The words on the church marquee
read: "Where would you go if you died today?"

The words on the church marquee
read: "It's not what you have in your life. It's who you have in your life."

The words coming from the bathtub
read: "Welcome to the new salvation Francie. We are a fold."

If my hands are dried in his blood this night
then I'll feel alright locking the door behind
me. First, I lay boards across the bathtub opening
and try to nail them down. The nails don't go savior
deep. It's disconcerting. If I wash my hands a few more times.
If I am humbly and unknowingly righteous. I try to clear
my head. There are visions of Hawaii and the beautiful
coast. A man in Rod Serling's facsimile from the Travel Channel says:

"Maybe we have found Heaven on Earth here
in this lush, tropical paradise. Within our own
borders and easily accessible by plane at any
time of year, Hawaii is the ideal place to come
escape from all of life's constant troubles."

A full bongo sound plays.