© Sauce*Box, Fall 1997. All rights
revert to author.
my religion is your ass
by Michael
McNeilley
miles
beyond
the ass of
figure skating
gymnastics and
women's
volleyball
your ass
is god
in dreams
I rub it
with vitamin e
opening the little
capsules
with a needle
as more capsules warm
between perfect
cheeks
yesterday
while driving
the rapture came
again
and I almost hit
a cat on
the sidewalk
and I pulled
to the side
and let your ass
pass over me
like spring
I see your ass
in clouds
in snowdrifts
shadowed
at the periphery
of vision
I order 2 scoops
of vanilla
rub my eyes
squint
eggshell
of perfection
curve of the crescent
moon
I design tattoos
over lunch
renditions of the sun
but the lines
inadequate
and I plant lilies
without guilt
your ass velvet
satin raw silk
your ass a star
of stage and screen
your ass blinding
like angels
where the grapes
of wrath
are stored
I bow before your ass
transfixed by
otherworldly light
and speak in tongues
take the grip of
metaphor
more tightly than
a pentecostal
snake handler
as I feast upon
the miracle
of your ass
I kneel here
before your ass
in asstheistic
wonder
taste the host
upon my tongue
and would drown
myself
in the holy
grail
I kneel here
before your ass
and as geometric
stigmata
my palms curve
to meet you
in a perfection
of tactile
veneration
* * * * *
Your critique of this work is appreciated.
Please e-mail the author.