Ten Commandments for the Blooming Rose

1. Forego cosmology; with his hand across your throat you don’t need
           religion—

(The diamond kisses vinyl like a heartbeat in darkness,
and your body will curl like smoke around the song.)

2. Savor the forgetting, the mindlessness! How sweet it is: that sparkling
           void where light is penetrating for the first time.

3. You must create heaven and earth inside yourself; they don’t exist
           anywhere else.
4. You must worship at the altar of a god you will never fully understand.

5. There are things beyond knowing, but this much is true: His
           wine-rubied lips are your messiah, his rough hands your prophets.

Communion is something your bodies do.

6. In the too-early winter twilight, raise him this prayer:
   
           “I’m so grateful
           that you exist, that we ended up here
           with so much to tell each other,
           so much still to learn.”

7. Keep walking into the unknown, break the surface, seek love beyond
           all its dogma and mystery.

8. Worship the halo of his flesh, sing the hymn in his voice. Bless him.
           Forgive him. Repent the sins you both repeat and revel in the delirium.
           Let him teach you.

(The needle carves a crescendo from the wax
and your body-curl arcs over it, up to the stars.)

9. Sometimes, you will look at him with stained-glass eyes and wonder
           how he feels.
           

Allow the rose to bloom and accept the gift of waiting.

10. Remember that God is a man
            who is always just out of reach.