we are dangling
from the four corners of your bed.
i am sandwiched
you, and the old pillow person
you sleep with at night
(its arm is missing,
from the time your
brother and you picked a
fight, and he cruelly ripped
it off and threw it
down a flight of stairs).

we are alone in the house.

later in the living room
we are dangling
from your mother’s blue
velvet segmented wrap around
sofa – the one that
your cat, Shetora, likes to
curl up on the most – amongst
the throw pillows.

in white embroidery floss
reads John 3:16 along
a blue and red square there
on the corner
of your mother’s blue
velvet segmented wrap around
sofa – next to softly lit glass
shelves, silently hanging,
housing a display or dozens of
small glass figurines
(they’ve been in your family for years).

John 3:16
“for God so loved the world
that he gave his only begotten son
that whosoever believeth
in him shall not perish
but have everlasting life!”
John 3:16

…you didn’t know what it meant.

i listened to the song in your house
(for walls can sing you know)
taking in the heavy silence
heavy breathing, heavy ticking
of the big brown grandfather
clock, and the heavy wind
crashing into the outside siding.

a wise man once said:
“prisons are built with bricks of law.
brothels with stones of organized religion.”

i suddenly recall some advice
my mother gave me about
Jewish boys and i remember
that Jesus was Jewish once.

“he that loveth God knoweth
God for God is love.”

the blue of your mother’s
velvet segmented wrap around
sofa, and the blue of our four eyes,
pure and clean,
washes us naked of faith.
we fall into the holes
in the segmented cushions,
holding on to each other
so we don’t descend too deep.

we bury ourselves in stars and crosses
(maybe we have conquered hate).

(c) 2014 Waifette SLR