Church Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

the church offer no absolutes
i tell him, 'worship me in our bedroom'

in our Sanctuary of Sheets, we tangled and moaned

My pews are soft and warm,
No stained glass casts its spell.
This chapel's walls conform
To my curves you know so well.

No organ's solemn tone,
No choir's hymnal swell -
Just whispers, sighs, our own
Communion's private knell.

This altar, my embrace,
This homily, your skin.
No priest can grant this grace,
This holy, carnal din.

So heed my call, my dear,
And in this bedroom shrine
Cast off all worldly fear -
Let's worship, you and I.