I learned to love your devil’s touch,
Bruised my knees to match my skin,
It was safety felt within your clutch,
Or the clutch that safely took me in,
In the quiet nights you washed me clean,
Put the damage on the soft places,
I fell asleep weeping with a blinding sheen,
Forgiven but avoiding puzzled faces,
These eardrums don’t beat the same,
Once tickled at the sweetest tongue,
Now beaten and maimed
And deep red from bloodied lungs,
When my eyes surveyed your black and white
I couldn’t help but feel drawn to your blessings,
Couldn’t wait for you to rape the night,
Couldn’t wait for you to fasten dressings,
Blood spread across white like cancer.
The cureless. You made me who I am.
For every screaming question I find the answer
In your devil’s touch, but who is damned?
I wake up from nightmares choking on bathwater
And the desolate looks from stolen sons and daughters.
How humbly you forgot your vows,
How celibacy was frail and dusted,
How when you laid hands across my brow
You forgot I’d been entrusted.
