*culture is not optional

Holy Bible

by Joy-Elizabeth Lawrence

The Bible gives me visions, so I fear it—
Christ, in the corner of my bedroom,
white and fire-y, overshadowing the streetlamps—
tears, lost sleep,
lost sheep.

The Bible gives me questions, so I ignore it—
an alien in the world of the ancients, like traveling abroad
backwards in time without my tennis shoes,
bacteria in the food, vomiting and
diarrhea.

The Bible gives me directions, but I’m lazy.
That map must be pieced together then matched
to my street with my exact location marked.
It’s personal,
and the pages are heavy.