a literary arts journal
Jesus Rolls a Blunt
Kenneth Carroll
It’s always too something outside. Come in. Pass a joke.
Apartment think itself cathedral. Stain glass lids close and
let the speaker light up. Room loud. Head rock and stretch
lips black. Burning bush. In the smoke, mist a missionary.
Too holy in here, crack a window. Communion eyes. Confess
sins to hollow street. Forgive me. Holy Spirit spin the block.
Can’t go nowhere but up. Upon this rock I ash. Make me whole
with a fourth. New neighbors ask us turn down and pillar of salty.
Homie called this city Jericho. We fashion instruments of earth
blow and pray this city fall. There was only a roach left
but it lasted 8 days. We thought we were out, but a ram
was caught in the cabinet. Sunday thought we dead but came
together and huddled about a fire. 12 pulled up to the hood
looking for a body and found an empty tomb. Amen.