Poetry

The secular love: 
you are contaminated 
between skin and prayer. 
 
Back from the odyssey 
finding a crop-circle 
in bridal chamber. 
 
Rival was an alien 
with a flat stomach 
thinking black. 
 
The thieving sperms 
had a glorious end, 
unentered in grass. 
 
Your body was churning out 
a religion. 
I will find out my own god.