Faith Fills Us Until Empty

[evilkate]

For easy Sunday dancing, belief
would gather eager smiles, tuck them
into eyes like secrets sent to bed
without supper, filled with hunger
even though seams threatened to burst;
to spill and bury each other
in words. They were so content
with mystery, so when I argued
that Jesus lost his nails, rusted
by clocks and scalpels that measured
him for a wealthier casket, they hid
behind their certain lips. I lacked
such truth until I met a girl,
with her honesty and baby steps
holding me on edge, between the peril
and the peak. She baptised me herself,
washed me in her eyes; made me clean
and showed me innocence. She filled
me until I was empty again.