The Cult Follower

The Cult Follower

And you said May God Bless You
wherein I thought you were a cult
follower, attacking my age
forty seven, still on a dating site.
But you kept repeating
Psalms like fronds
fanning a hot Lenten season
but you summoned memories
of your father’s death
from a heart attack,
I began to believe in Jesus.
I can hear you now
at twenty one, working and studying in high school
desperate for his father
to come back, trying
to wean him back
from heaven’s grip. Instead
you believed you can save
anyone, by culling phrases from
the bible like a Baptist who knows
at fifteen, losing a father
to pieces of prayers
will bring him back,