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Gospel of a Certain Kind
H.C. McEntire
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You come to me kneeling
Pleading
Keep driving me mad
Came to see the dripping moss
Stayed to feel like some part of
Left to know how real it was
Heal me
Words brave and binding
Steeping
Tea leaves before bed
Fertile as a Delta pile
Final as a finish line
Gospel of a certain kind
Nearly
Gave into the feeling
Seedlings
To scatter and spread
Open-ended afternoons
Rearrange the living room
A vice, a wife, alone, you choosе