God, Glory, And Gold

what evil befell jesus
the year grandfather burned the flag
and our lips were so dry
they cracked on contact
blood smearing the kiss
and father michael told us we had sinned
everyday

each day spend standing like rain
we waver and might not be seen
but still each touch was love
lust with lemonade and hateful sun
jesus told me that he used to love me
at least that what’s mother said
he said

and we bought a new flag before the fourth
something to fly like the neighbors
who already moved away
the world was a closed door
your bed rooms or mine
locked tight against God and Patriots
can we move to Canada?


your tongue was a firefly
instigated heresy in my mind
re-education might have been a word
or a place

does god care about me?
does god care about love?
mother said yes once
now when the air is cold
and we hold hands with no gloves
simply to feel each others heat
mother said god was love
she says god hates me

so does america
i think

if i touch the dirty stains 
on the bible pages
will they cure me?

semen covered genius in a hotel room
tattered half falling
i steal it and tuck the words away
find home in the darkness of my bag
ignore love
to ignore god
ignore the fireworks
the pyrotechnic patriot banging on the walls

warm soda cold pizza
the same bloody kiss we always share
flavored the television show about death
twisted love and god
for glory, god, and gold,
we built the world on bricks made of powdered bones?
or powdered milk
bought with dirt
stole fortunes of ones and change

we left for new york
were all the pretty girls smoked cigarettes
all the children drank beer
and zoned on pills
and no one asked why
where
who with
when
and no one asked for god
and gold was breathing

a year spent in translation
selling souls for food
trading moments of life for shelter
yet still holding to cold hands
and cracked lips
was that love?
our silly devotion to pain
once violated when the world 
was no longer just that door

you kissed my penitence
with alcohol swabs and
promises not to leave
traced over the pen thin lines
during bus rides 
from stolen tickets

we hit california 
glory state of gold god
and the bible in my backpack
was useless against the mob
and the fire works on the fourth
meant nothing
and people asked for god
so it was scripted
i think they got mel gibson 
he played the part too kind
and he looked like love
and he spoke like love
and he came down and cared
he came down and lied.

we know enough of wind chimes
to know they don’t speak of love
god might sound like music
our god sounded like wind chimes in my ear
softness born of violence
a group striking the defenseless
And you wonder at my bitter tongue?

you lost the cross
it was only holding on to home
to a pawn shop
it was the our martyr
but so many things went wrong 
went like love
so you left California
headed home
and I woke broken

i had glass for dinner
choked on forever
spit out god
spit out America
spit out love
the words tucked in backpack
swelled with water
and washed away in the river
was that god?
so easily destroyed
love so easily turned down.

i think of you
your firefly tongue
safe at re-education
is that door still the world?
is that why I can’t seem to connect?
did you find god there?
in that hate?
was god waiting in that spite?

the dreams still cloud like they use to
the whispers still make leaps
and god still sounds like love
but I still don’t know
if god loves me
i still don’t know
is love even there at all?

So I ripped pages from new york
Lessons on drugs
And pages from california
Lessons on not caring
Pages from the bible
And I swallowed new york’s beer
Pills
And I fell into California
The same damn river I lost god in
And waited for love.

Leah Baker

this awesomely talented young poet also created this original banner
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