You came to me
in a dream where
we were sitting in
an urban garden
before dawn and you
were smoking a cigarette
and I wanted one just
to wake up and you took
yours out of your mouth
and put it on the trash can
lid in front of me and I
don’t have more than
that right now except for
a few conversations with
homeless men who spoke
with words from beyond
them which made me
think they were you
but all I want is to hear
you say my name one
time when I think all
hope is lost and the
empire has finally
all the way won.
Just say my name
so I will say Rabboni
and find your nail
holes with my lips.
Don’t tell me not to cling
to you this time; you do
not need to go back
to your father any longer.
It’s time to make
Easter flowers bloom;
it’s time to introduce
the world to my lover
who cannot be held in
the tomb any longer
by Bible teachers who
locked him in their books.
Starchild
Starchild is a poet, artist, and pastor. Their work focuses on the intersection of the prophetic Christian tradition and the expansiveness and queering of love. Stream their new spoken-word album, Bloom!
Yet Alive 