And All God’s People Said “Amen” (Intégrité, 2019)

When my grandmother died, 

the preacher eulogized her coconut cake. 

Somewhere between “Psalm 23” and “Blessed Assurance,” 

he gave those packed in the pews at 

Manly Presbyterian Church 

a revival in confectioner’s sugar and full-fat milk. 

While the Hammond warbled behind him, 

the Reverend Doctor picked up speed, 

wiped his brow as he reminded every mourner 

that the only grace there was 

was the grace they could taste, 

the kind that paints a sheen on the lips,

and in Etta’s kitchen, there was a slice for every 

widow, orphan, outcast, and addict. 

Into your hands we commend your sweet servant, Lord. 

What is love but four sticks of butter, hand whipped 

and spread smooth behind an unlatched screen door?