EMPTYING TOWN
—after Provincetown
Each fall this town empties, leaving me
drained, standing on the dock, waving bye—,
bye, the white handkerchief
stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus
rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny,
the way he points to it. I’m afraid
the way I miss you
will be this obvious. I have
a friend who everyone warns me
is dangerous, he hides
bloody images of Jesus around my house
for me to find when I come home—Jesus
behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked
into the mirror. He wants to save me
but we disagree from what. My version of hell
is someone ripping open his
shirt & saying,
look what I did for you.
from Some Ether by Nick Flynn
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