(if they don't put me away,
oh it'll be a miracle.
i won't know anyone.)
do the doubters conglomerate?
do we make a secret sect
where
holes in hands
are hidden doors into
forbidden lands?
the gates
are wide shut
during the day,
but at night
i feel
salvation's tug--
Christ tugs
at artfully crafted tapestry
and it unravels
like the burlap bags
i dress with
ashes blessing
like black snow angels
kissing.
we bring meaning to Christmas.
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