Peter - John 1
So many ways I hear them, like waves in exasperation
on volcanic shores, recoiling bursts like a street of slammed doors.
A catfish barks. The empty space snaps closed,
flattens my nose. I wonder if God has heard
I’m unloved, or that I’ve overtaxed
the flow of grace from our family name. Lava cracks.
Shards in the undertow cool and harden
into a useless rock that used to glow.