Sometimes I like to reimagine religion
and the stories I was told as a child, so
that it fits the way I understand the world
now. I tell myself it happened like this:
Every day after the cross, Jesus would only
wear long sleeves. The kind that were oversized
and covered your palms and hands. He wore gloves
in the summertime, was uncomfortable whenever
someone asked about his scars, kept his clothes on
at swimming parties, became a janitor because the
uniform covered everything. He was a quiet boy.
Mostly kept to himself. Would only talk to people
like his mother or his therapist.
When he would visit Mary, he would always pull his
sleeves down a little longer, cross his arms a little tighter,
always keep hands in pockets, never wanting her to see the places
where he bled. Always telling her that it wasn’t so bad. That he
barely even thinks about it anymore. Listen, you and I both know,
This, too, is how we love.
Lauren Brodowski is a poet, an artist, a musician, and a lover of all giant dog breeds (particularly newfies). She is studying to become a therapist, which is to say that she is in love with feelings and an advocate of the human heart. She recently moved to Colorado from California where she now spends her free time hiking with her dog and running around in the snow with him while deer watch them together in the moonlight.