WINNER

I skim the threshold
between two realms, a liminal limbo
between the crown of Jesus
and his toes, nestled in prayer.

My fingers once grazed his temples,
the ringed scar of bigotry
upon His skin.
Now they jingle with garish orbs
from a thousand Xmas aisles.

My star-spangled crown;
a reflection in their eyes
between footfalls of sand.
Intangible trust,
in a smokescreen sea.

Now, I am ordained
by a toddler’s frisky fingers,
crowned with the lopsided love,
of yet-to-be-broken belief.

And when the premonitions
of new year, befall my fate,
a stock cupboard is no less than a cage.

Crucified on departure,
resurrected upon arrival.