Cardin, Oklahoma

When he preached, there was a mighty thunderhead
to his voice. Sermons of Resurrection in the spring,
of Judgment in the summer, and from the time I was five,
I knew that our God was a jealous God. After his son died
while night training on V-22 Ospreys for the Marines,
he found the heroin Gabriel left buried in his room
under a box of letters from my sister. He grieved
for some months after that and I feared his voice
would never carry the thunderhead again. Gabriel died
in the month of April, and every year I resurrect him,
how he played the drums and drove a Chevelle. And I think
that maybe things are better than they would've been
if I had kept faith. Had I not broken things off with my
King of kings. But I knew. My love, it was never the agape kind.