Wade in the Water, But Keep Your Matches Dry

Eighteen years old, we sat cross-legged in Arts Terrace grass

Smoked pot and spoke of past lives

Parents, teachers and preachers who told us what to think

She confided that at fourteen she was born again

Baptized in a fiberglass church sanctuary River Jordan

Congregation watching, a choir ready to sing on cue

I told her in high school I thought

I’d become a minister, go to seminary

Study scriptures, understand not memorize truth

I said a minister sprinkled water on my head as a baby

My parents made promises of who I would become

And that I can’t remember one damn thing about it

I asked her why she waited so long

to submerge herself and shake

sacramental water from her hair

She said her preacher and parents kept asking

And all her friends in Sunday school

Had already taken the plunge

I asked if ecstasy flowed from head to toe

And did she feel a dove descend upon her head

She took another toke, passed the joint

Replied she felt nervous about her nipples showing

Through a wet baptismal gown and she wished she

Hadn’t worn bright flowered panties in the pool

We laughed, we laughed at expectations, we laughed

At what was, we laughed at what would be, we clasped

The roach in a feathered clip she carried in her purse

Lit a fire, sniffed acrid smoke

Eyes full of water, smoke rose above

Our heads, ecstasy flowed from head to toe

9-21-20

“I indeed baptize you with water, but he that cometh after me shall baptize you with fire…..” Matthew 3:11