cathedral for a while

I.
Ashes to Ashes. Get into position.
Ashes to Ashes.
Selah.

one, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, ten.
Exhale—leaf into Ashes.

Scribe of revolution.
Ceremony.
Exhale—get into position.

Ashes to Ashes. leaf into Ashes.
Selah.

Ceremony, worship.
Exhale—painting a façade.

Ashes to Ashes. worship.
Exhale the Scribe of revolution.
Selah.

Ceremony: Spray-paint screaming back
from the Church wall—

“Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth;
I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.”
Matthew 10: 34

II.

i remember the music at that loft party,
the way you, Bill Cosby, walked in
and smiled, listening to James Brown.
i like standing by the speakers.

and when I didn’t have a drink—truly alone—
you came dancing up and kissed me quick.
i didn’t notice the martini you were extending.

“Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag”
and I remember
the stumbling conversations.

I was red-faced; asking, “So,
how many seasons of the Cosby show
did you make?”
and you smiled—
it was a dream come true.

i remember you talking about Marvin Gaye
and Jello over the grinding woofer in my ear.
it was a dream come true.

my stupid awkward questions, “Is it true,
what they say about black men?” a pause—
you were never one to talk dirty in public.

But you did.
Leading me down corridors, opening
a maze of doors, wandering
with you until we could find silence.
it was a dream come true.

III.

A.
i grow old . . . i grow old . . .
i shall keep my big bills rolled.

doing blow with god,
watching him snort up
all the county lines.

B.
In this office—
Every Tuesday is tropical
Tuesday.

C.
I saw you swallow the grenade,
The way your stomach ballooned
like something that only happens.

in cartoons, any way to numb the pain.

IV.

“So, let’s open this up for discussion.”

. . . (flipping of pages) . . .

“Ok, I don’t really see what these have in common.”

“Yeah like look at the last one,
I can see my words appearing on
the page as I say them.”

“But?”

“But I don’t get it.”

“So does that make it mean nothing to you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“But you are in the poem.”

“I am.”

“That means nothing?”

“I guess so.”