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Lurking

Alayna Hinson

Hiding behind a paper white mask, black coat, and knife: a slasher movie villain
lingering in the corner of my eye:
dusty and cherry red with traces of coffee ground black.
A faded gold lamp and flame on standby.

Peeking at me behind the wooden slats.
Like a church elder—the perfect fill-in.
Did you know there’s a Bible in our garage?
Hiding behind a paper white mask, black coat, and knife: a slasher movie villain.

Yes, I say. Don’t throw the Bible out.
Can’t get rid of that volume, but I know that thing’s a trap.
An urge to go closer, while knowing I shouldn’t.
Peeking at me behind the wooden slats.

Months go by before I can touch that Bible.
Unwilling to get my hands dirty, no doubt.
The pages wrinkle like they were submerged for too long.
Yes, I say. Don’t throw the Bible out.

“Go-to” verses in the front give me flashbacks.
WAY OF SALVATION is a trick.
Fear of the ghost following me inside the house.
Months go by before I can touch that Bible.

Looking at that thing like the tome can suck me back in.
The old fear that I will backtrack.
Knowing I don’t believe any of that doctrine anymore.
“Go-to” verses in the front give me flashbacks.

Old friends deconverted find other churches.
Liberated themselves, now re-obsessed with sin.
Trying not to judge and failing.
Looking at it like that thing can suck me back in.

Evolution or hypocrisy?
My stomach lurches.
Old wounds mix with nostalgia.
Old friends deconverted find other churches.

Pulled towards the tome, claws in my heart.
I flinch, waiting to be gutted.
After all—why would this time be any different?
Evolution or hypocrisy?

This game—like internet stalking an abusive ex.
Am I really doing this for my art?
What does that say about me that I can’t let go?
Pulled towards the tome, claws in my heart.

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