Shabbos

The gods will come and ride you if you have prepared.
If steam is rising off your clean hair,
and your boyfriend has gotten on his knees
and massaged lemon oil into the floor
all Friday afternoon and dissolved the resin
choking the vaporizer's screen
away into grain alcohol, so that when you wake up
and shit neatly and close the bathroom door
and lift your white coffee cup away from its saucer
you can draw the vapor smoothly into your lungs
between sips - if you have maintained your
body's cleanness, so that both your heart
and your blood vessels may cry out in response
to God - then they will come down
and ride you and ride you and ride you until
your body metabolizes all the acid in that
miniature postage stamp of blotter paper,
those stamps that will mail you into any painting
you look at, that will animate Van Gogh's Mulberry Tree
with the crawling intricacy of a Mayan codex.