Tent Revival At Night Poem by nathan martin

superstitous suffering,
rebirth of all children with
holy relics round thier necks..

look for the signs in the heavens,
chase the rogue waves in the sky.

cold so cold the zodiak touch to
the bare skin preacher.

looking down to see the discolored
grass between the baptisms where
no water had ever fallen.

dry rock...bed rock doctrine shifting,
voices lifting into the night.

the earth leans to the left slightly on its axis,
a lantern flickers.

the majestic burning of all mothlike
fables illuminates the tent pegged
cornfield tabernacle.