“[God] does not and cannot bless sin” —Vatican decree from March 15, 2021
Bless us hellions with love but not enough. I’m afraid
that story’s been told. Survival was our first matrimony.
You look to us with two eyes as two fists clenched
b/w the burning sun and your burning sons—
O! Now here comes the choir, discreet everymen with harps
and horns and yearnings, closing in around our figures in flames:
prophets picnicking with gasoline. Still, dogma dangles us from the balcony
like the King of Pop. Queer kids spell trauma for every camera
they see. Anchors ask, What is it like to kiss with the forked tongue of a sinner?
Like heaven, we say. Like a burning.
Adam Gianforcaro (he/him) lives in Wilmington, Delaware. His poems can be found in RHINO Poetry, Third Coast, the minnesota review, Rust + Moth, Poet Lore, and elsewhere. His poem “Overture” was also featured in the LOVERS issue of perhappened. He tweets intermittently under the handle @xadamg.