Just to hear him call me in,

I’d run through Lowcountry rain

and watch clothes stick to skin.

I wish you knew me then,

When love sounded like

A voice calling me back in.

For when you get there (a poem of faith)

At the edge of a foreign dune,

I see you in love

With your hands and feet,

Between the ground where you

And God meet.

Love encircles itself and

Becomes a sandstorm that you

Stand at the eye of.

You are praying,

Allowing yourself

To sit still

Until Joshua trees bend

Over dry hills.

Like wind lovingly wiping

The sweat from your brow

Or skin touching water,

Like lovers meeting in the shade,

It is here, in this place

Where belief is made.

Tonight, I share my bed

With a dying King.

King David calls me young

Before day lays light on bedsheets.

He reaches for the warmth

Of flesh, saying

“Abishag,

You are the virgin I liked best.”

Eyes closed and hair tucked

Behind his ears,

He listens to

The uncracking of walls.

The sound of my breath

Rings around the room,

Like children playing barefoot

In desert sand.

I close my eyes and dream.

I see lovers

Under my mother’s willow tree

In Shunem of Galilee.

King David speaks to me,

“Tonight, my dear, I’m only 23.

Come closer and warm this space

Next to me.”