Dear Jesus, It’s Me, David

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Dear Jesus, It’s Me, David
by David Morley
– my body as insufficient sacrifice –
I’m learning to do nothing right,
and soon I’ll despise you as my own.
the past as prologue to my stomach,
spreading ever farther over the cliff of my pants
remember the day I burned down your house with love,
and we sat and hugged and watched K-Pax until dawn?
but now I find my new true glory, staying up late
with ice cream and weight gain; before you know it,
I’ll be fatter than your entire family.
someday, I’ll trade every pair of shoes in your closet
for two stacks of nickels, and I’ll pound those one by one
into truck-stop vending machines, hit the jackpot of pornographic tattoos.
I’ll get in my blue van and drive and look back once to remember the color of your house.
green, I think.

0 thoughts on “Dear Jesus, It’s Me, David

  1. Strange and sad. I assume there are religious denotations here, but not so literal as David’s being the father of Jesus. Seems like it’s the poet talking to Jesus; if not Christ, then somebody named Jesus. But either way, it works. The weight gain might signify original sin–“the past as prologue to my stomach”–at least in the poet’s genetics. Their relationship–“when we sat and hugged and watched K-Pax until dawn”–was an interlude that took him away from his corporeal-ness. Which then took him over again. Having been religious in one’s youth and then falling away from it back into ways of the flesh? A fine modern-day symbolic treatment of this through the details of trading shoes for nickels put in vending machines for tattoos. Great imagery, “my stomach spreading ever farther over the cliff of my pants,” “the day I burned down your house with love,” the great line, “I’m learning to do nothing right” all pointing back to “my body as insufficient sacrifice”–to gain a sense of spirituality and love.

  2. ‘green, i think’; good for you, ‘kuz you gotta jot the things that will creep up on you so you can figure them out ahead of becoming a jaded bastard child. this tastes like bukowski without the placidity-or someone coming to terms with being in a state of emergency, right after the denial bit. david. that’s my favorite name for a faux-jew. subtract the brussel sprout diets, this could be the david i have in mind heading toward the detachment process in a marriage.

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