In one, I married the first man who asked and

I endured. Took as little space as I could,

opened my hands and he�d place his faults,

lined up like eucharists into my palms until

I would have loved his children and traded them for the dead.
Maybe I would wear white on Sundays, pull on my gloves,
hold the women after they raised up during service, wipe

their sweat, and hold them fast as they cry hallelujah.

Hallelujah. Maybe I would be the woman swooning.
Maybe his God would move through me just once like that,

maybe God would fill me so tight with spirit, I�d split like stars.In one, I
married the first man who asked and
I endured. Took as little space as I could,
opened my hands and he�d place his faults,

lined up like eucharists into my palms until

I would have loved his children and traded them for the dead.
Maybe I would wear white on Sundays, pull on my gloves,
hold the women after they raised up during service, wipe

their sweat, and hold them fast as they cry hallelujah.

Hallelujah. Maybe I would be the woman swooning.
Maybe his God would move through me just once like that,

maybe God would fill me so tight with spirit, I�d split like stars.In one, I
married the first man who asked and
I endured. Took as little space as I could,
opened my hands and he�d place his faults,

lined up like eucharists into my palms until

I would have loved his children and traded them for the dead.
Maybe I would wear white on Sundays, pull on my gloves,
hold the women after they raised up during service, wipe

their sweat, and hold them fast as they cry hallelujah.

Hallelujah. Maybe I would be the woman swooning.
Maybe his God would move through me just once like that,

maybe God would fill me so tight with spirit, I�d split like stars.