I’ve slept in church
that must be when
I missed the answers.
“When will Christ return?”
I asked, waving my phone,
“I have this handy calendar app.”
"My child," he said, putting a
fatherly hand on my shoulder.
I wiped it off, like a spider web.
I’ll never get to heaven,
I lack the plasticine
malleability of belief.
.
**plasticine malleability = Play-Doh like*...
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