Sugarwood
The living room door
in my aunt Margaret’s house
had the face of Jesus in the grain.
When I would fall asleep
with its eyes watching me
I thought I would wake up healed—
salvation on the other side
of sugarwood.

When I was three, I remember
my mother carrying me
because our street had flooded
and I said
“I thought you told me
God would never flood the earth again?”
Turns out, my town wasn’t the whole world.

I took up my grievance
with the door.
With my little hands, I unscrewed
the hinges and offered
it to Noah for an arc.

Originally published in the 2021 Poetry Marathon Anthology and in “Blake.”