Blasphemy

The fifth boy I ever dated, and

The third boy I’d ever loved

Swore on his dusty King James Version Bible

There was no greater being in existence.

 

But for an unbeliever, he sure did

Talk of his mother like she had placed the fiery stars

In the dark of the night as gingerly as she had

Their glow-in-the-dark counterparts on the ceiling of his

Childhood bedroom.

 

He had an unwavering, relentless faith in the

Kansas City Chiefs.

 

It was either late, late August or early September

When he’d cut out a black and white photograph

Of the Grand Canyon from a National Geographic magazine

And taped it to the wall next to his bed; he’d see it

Before he died. The picture was promise of his pilgrimage.

 

After the first time we had kissed and bumped noses,

I felt Christ’s name pass his lips.

 

The first boy whose heart I’d ever broken

Did not believe in God, but had a beautiful conviction in

The goodness of the world and its people.

Loving him was a religious experience.