April 13th

they say
Jesus died for your sins and
I think
“all of them?”
and I think
“maybe I should have sinned more to make it
worth it”

I think
I’m handling pandemic really well
except that
on both hands
every fingernail
is gnawed to the quick and the skin, too,
around them

I’d show
you a picture of the digits’ devastation
but the news
is full of
those stories already
and no one wants to see bloody hands at

this is
the last poem I’ll write about resurrection
for a year
or more
because nothing feels new and
no one is being born again during