From my poem “Sacred Spring” in the faith issue of Tin House. A lost baby. Miscarriage. Travel. The great ships come and go.
From my poem “Baptism” in the faith issue of Tin House.
I visited a psychologist in Portadown. Think I was six. They wanted me to draw an 8. I couldn’t draw an 8. I drew two circles joined together. Over and over.
Then I got baptised at 8. My foot kept coming out of the water.
I can never get clean enough. Sinning is infinity.