Poem 4 (Untitled)
By Christopher Martinez
I ordered faith online, not my own.
Brush strokes for profit of prophets to share the wall
Of crosses every Mexican, Catholic mother has—
The suffering wall / the reminder of heaven
On Christ’s not birthday,
I want her to remember the grace of a candle flame:
As South Texas drops below 70 degrees
& joints locked themselves purple,
When her limited field of vision
Requires fields rife with holy color—
Neon green stigmata, a funky allure,
Coronas golden around baby Jesus
Promising broken bodies to be mended
Someday. Another decor addition
To free a life bounded by god’s gift
How does faith survive Darwin’s cruelty?
I center a mural where a crucifiction once stood.