A reversal of reversed worlds,
a return to something abandoned –
I pick up my religion
and look at it. I put it on
and sleep with it
wrapped around me. I keep
secrets from it, or pretend to.
I write poems about it,
but never to it. I say
obscenities, but never
shout them. Sometimes
I dance. I touch myself.
I wait for something
to change. I wait
my whole life long.