but it is Jesus
who nudges me in the ribs, like, See? I know you, girl!
And I’m all, Seriously? Some friend you are!
The squirrel scavenging in my lawn does not know theology
or jokes,
only the love of the hard shell.
I pant, dewless, while he scurries away
and I hide my secret that will grow tall,
soon enough, he says.