Start by giving until
you are hollow.
Hollow is the given
here, the expectation.
You’ll soon be empty
if there’s any good 
in you to give.

Speak as spoken to
and be heard as well;
love it as you are loved,
or oppose it and be
ignored, despised,
or shunned.

(If you are already
the Other,
a role will be
chosen for you.)

As for full membership
and its privileges: of course
it’s open to all
and not hard to achieve —
the hurdles are few and low.
Start anytime.
We will let you know
when you’re finished.

We will let you know.

We’ll let you know.

I promise, we’ll let you know.

“Every angel is terrifying,” said 
Rilke, and I love those words, 
and I long have agreed.

I have them tattooed, you see,
across my back
right where wings would be. 

I thought a long while
about the language I should use
for this — English, or original German —

and settled for English, so that no one
at the beach or gym
with All American monolingual ignorance

will ever assume
that based on the look of the words,
I must be a Nazi — instead,

they’ll maybe think I’m a lapsed Catholic
or troubled Christian of another sort,
with a blue-black charm across my skin

to fend off the possibility
that I might be terrible too, someday.
I’m certain most will still not understand.

How is it possible, most will say,
that what God created for His comfort
and support could scare anyone?

Isn’t it supposed to be lovely in Heaven, isn’t it
peace beyond understanding
expressed as real estate?

And I’ll laugh, and say that
it’s ‘personal,’ and at any rate
I’ve only ever seen the words on me

backwards in a mirror, so maybe
that way it means something else?
And they will move away from me,

which is all I’ve ever wanted.
Every angel is terrifying, even one
without wings, even one waiting

to return home.  I must keep the people
away from me, I cannot be responsible
if they discern the truth and begin to scream.