The preacher says, “Sometimes
Jesus just hunts your ass
down and there’s nothing
you can do about it.” And you
lean in to listen. She wears a leather
moto jacket, boot cut jeans,
hair a silver-black faux hawk.
Sub-zero February but she strips
off the jacket mid-lecture, reveals
sleeve-style tattoos.
One is Saint Mary Magdalene.
You imagine your face in the icon.
You on the Reverend’s ordained arm –
your scarlet tunic rippling as she twists
her forearm, reaches for a drink of water.
Originally published in The Tishman Review (2017)