Earth was like versions of the afterlife—
Heaven & Hell coexisting,
with Purgatory the mortar in the cracks,
holding it all together.
Soft-spoken with conviction.
Jesus, as I imagined him to be;
David, as I knew him to be.
One claimed to be God,
the other, to me, simply was.
I shared not my mother’s belief, but her love—
not the love that dwelt inside her,
but the noun that was in the glorious form of a man.
I worked alongside him in the kitchen,
I helped grade his papers,
I posed for his paintings—
I was his constant companion.
He spoke of sin like an atheist,
salvation, like a minister.
He saw food as carnal,
sex as spiritual.
The day he devoured me,
I became both.