I awoke naked and cold and found myself at the edge of a dark
forest Jesus stood next to me he pointed into the black
wood and said come on Joe come on but I was tired and sore
from the things ’d done and I didn’t feel much like taking a
walk so I pointed at the distant golden lights right there across that
field so close you could read the Bible by it I joked and Jesus spake
whatever the short cut home took us into a wide spinach
field heavy with cultivation Jesus wasn’t happy he kind
of grumbled under his breath halfway across a dog
barked and the door of the farmhouse swung open
and flooded the green carpet with soft light we dropped
to the burying earth and looked out just above the dark
leaves a farmer stood outlined in his kitchen’s yellow
who that out there he shouted you better run now go git ’em
girl and we did run stumbling and crashing the dog’s bark
and snarl closer and closer I laughed when Jesus tripped and
said his own name I asked him if it was a sin but he was out
of breath from running and said go to hell and kind of half
smiled so I figured we were golden but then he stopped
and didn’t say a word let me run a few more steps right
into the fence how could he let me end up draped
over the field’s barbed wire edge this close to home free
like laundry on a line every movement a fresh star of pain
like being stabbed by a stranger who wants your TV I told
you not to come this way he said and threw his robe over the
barbed wire next to me clambered up and over eyed me from
the other side get me down I cried but he just shook his head
sadly ankle deep in the soybeans of paradise and me hanging
up there food for crows and I couldn’t help myself I laughed
and coughed this is me and it always has been yes Jesus said
yes tears rolled down my cheeks each coughing spasm drove
the thin rusted barbs like a serrated knife somebody might
find handy in a kitchen when the old man comes downstairs
a crash and a hiss and three dogs bit at my ankles and Jesus
was gone a gruff voice from the shadows you’re mine now
the farmer said twin shotguns like wings on his shoulders
is an award-winning teacher of creative writing and literature at the University of Wisconsin, Fox Valley. His writing has appeared in Flash Fiction Magazine, The Literary Review, The Writer’s Chronicle, River Poets Journal, Chiron Review, Paradigm, Review Americana, Dark Sky Magazine, and many others. His most recent chapbook is Ode to Sandra Hook (Finishing Line Press). He earned an MFA from Fairleigh Dickinson University and is a recovering youth hockey coach.