GAY BOY FAITH
God, grant me one more
fourteen-year-old sleepover
in which Ben and I share a bed
and sleep with our bare chests pressed
against one another, hugging
through the night.
Then, grant me a tomorrow
in which Ben returns the same:
a young man with round cheeks,
strong hands, and faith
beaming from crooked teeth.
Ben, you look so small
from the top of this staircase.
Come sit with me. Ben, why
won’t you come up here?
God, I thought maybe
I felt you hug me when Ben and I
stared at each other for five minutes
before my lips finally lunged
forward for our first kiss.
God, I thought maybe
you smiled that first time
I slipped my cold hand
up Ben’s shirt and touched
his warm back in Spanish class.
Ben, this doesn’t have to
stop. Please. Don’t make this
stop. God loves us, right?
God, please, don’t
make this stop.