This church is one-eyed, stained glass teeth it Smiles & one chipped, bell lit. The altar is my new bed & I roll it in my mouth The bread-body, deconsecrated. With my poison spit, it sinks under,
And so does my Confirmation Name, it echoes Sharp, like mouth full of exacto-blades. They
Smile with wine, smile smile watery. Whisper to me from under sleep-Latin, Consonants overlap all svelt with spit. Roll it into the ceiling and frothe it, icing on the Cake when she marries me. I hope she loves you over me. Wear a patch over that empty socket, put a Fist straight through it, pluck it like The fruit I ate at the end of last season it prunes In my hand, crumbles like static like knee the Genuflection I sneaked under my seat. I once was sermoned at the very place I Was Christianed into, this megachurch I no Longer recognize. Is this what it feels like To be baptized again? Emerge an infant scrubbed pure with salt &When they condemn erasure I become swollen With bloody tissue, I fantasize about the time I saw a woman naked, stretch the fabric Of her skin, run it under the shower & Kiss the sockets echo her lips. It’s already Sunday. Tuck me Into your drawer to talk to you, This closet priest. I wanna sing Anthropomorphic organ-hymn praises.You still split me into halves & put them eachOnto my palms, half on another. I guess that’s what I find so comforting –
The nihilism of you. I still wait for the SundayI slither under the pew and tie your shoelaces together,
Over under around & through.
Yunkyo Moon Kim is a Boston native and a sophomore at Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism.