Pits

We go on and we tremble. God says we can screw now. God says to give up all your lovers, Time to die. When I was younger I drove a Lincoln. God said to trade it in. A tad lovely, then, and terrible, And sick of my own kind, I wanted to become a woman. I wanted to wash the feet of other women In public, I wanted his eyes On me, olives on the ground. I gave you my hand, Now I go around with my sleeve Tucked in my coat. I climb no trees, touch One breast at a time, Hold no hands myself. I go on and I tremble With your back in my blood, The clap my mother left me. With me no more, and now, And forever, and even always The dust of my feet In the desert I give you stranger my sign, My peace, But God you remember You fucked me out of my hand.