I wrote a new poem today, well a few, but here is my favorite. I haven't titled it yet. Tell me what you think.

When I smell my scriptures,

I smell Sister Smith—

the pillar-of-a-woman

recent convert whose house

reeked of piss and all things dying.

When I smell my scriptures,

I remember her toothless smile and fierce hugs,

and how, after missing my scriptures for three weeks,

she delivered them to me at church,

like a storybook hero—

forever imprinting them with her smell.

When I smell my scriptures,

I feel the waves of the Atlantic rolling

over my feet,

and see the photograph of my entire zone

suspended over the shore, weightless in time.

When I smell my scriptures,

I feel mosquitoes slowly sucking

the life out of me,

day after day--

leaving bloody smudges on my nylons,

when I squashed them.

When I smell my scriptures,

I remember the humidity

of Florida summers, and

the hope that people would somehow

see in two drenched varmints,

representatives of Jesus Christ.

When I smell my scriptures,

I see President Darrington’s blue gaze

and half-moon spectacles—

my very own Dumbledore!

and I hear him say with a choked voice:

“This is the work of the Lord!”

When I smell my scriptures,

I hear my alarm clock ringing at 6:30,

and feel myself rolling over, moaning

“no, please no”

as I fall to my knees.

When I smell my scriptures,

I think of a time when love was all that mattered

and I wish, oh how I wish,

that I were once again wearing nylons and

a tiny black nametag.