robert duncan gray

[vuh-jahy-nuh seynt] 

If I were to press the palms of hands together, as if in prayer, and insert myself into you until elbow-deep, you might cry out in joy.

The lubrication of my holy ghost with the menstrual blood of the lamb.

I squint and you look almost like my mother smiling and you welcome me home again.

There is a body in a box. The body is me and the box is you and a third person is burying us. We are both alive. 

I stick my dick through the holes in your hands and ask you to consider my apology.