Inspection: a poem on dirt and Jesus

Photo by Daniel Lincoln on Unsplash

I was told that God wore white gloves
slipped His finger 
down 
the 
contours 
of hard-to-reach 
shame

checked for dirt 
behind the rib cage

required spit-polished souls
zero tolerance for mess

I wanted to pass inspection

I made my spirit an incurious loft
spare
quiet
Each nervous, curated choice
a vacuum
static-fr…