Burdensome gospel weighs on my feet
and places gentle aches in my belly to remind me
that my clammy hands and numb toes question
the veracity of warm hope. But on the fireside
nights where breath is parallel in the air to the smoke,
I can find the truth comforting with both.
Knees close to the chest – passion contained.
In fact, I might question if I’m insane,
but flickers of flame are novocaine.