I search out 
all my missing
desperate to tuck
their names
into the altar litany.

they are a river in the blood
loud and riotous,
                               I give them leave.
When they dare me to break
open in public, I bring,
my holy-rolling body
to these secular drums
and don’t miss the divinity.

These steps still, call down a clean
sweat; shy is lost
on the other side
of the last Beyoncé baseline
                                                   here, I give myself
to the tending of ghosts I cannot
name. A neat whiskey
held til they teach me the dance
of their childhood

joyous free
we cackle and wine
underneath a packed forest
of salt slick limbs.