I’m shaking I can feel

The baby teeth rattle

in the back of my skull

Stepping out of the light

And far off of the stage

He finds me and my words

The pastor brushes me

Contacting my elbow

With his paper-skin hand

The heat from his thin words

Supersonic brimstone

Scalding my eyes and face

You should be a prophet

He says, not listening

To six minutes ago

If you believe in God

You can’t believe in me

Maybe that’s not so bad