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I exchanged my christian superstitions
for clothes and cigarettes
whiskey and memories I can do without

I slept in my old church
and dreamt up a different childhood
and no that doesn’t feel okay
to have spent mornings
alone or talking keys on an organ

I wanted to stand
that’s why I used a different name
and dreamt of speaking tongues
under old white ghosts in sheets

no that was no holiday
in a stairwell
hugging my ribs against a portrait
of christ

could oh could oh could oh could
it be less of a down trodden
wooden pew and more of a
chandelier with real light