the love they could not hang on the cross by J. Fisher

in this false prayer
i was idiot prophet
making sore callous
of begging knee
and bending elbow
– full cripple prostrate peddlar.
She fell out
caught her on the decent
and i sucked upon her soul
until she sang like my Magdelaine.
i was saved from my fate
and she was destined to go
here, now alone, i weep
like a fucking fool
for the soft portal
that oiled the nails
and caught me
In the exit slump
pierced, and wanting