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Conception Two

Melinda J Nevarez

my Mexican grandma had a catholic shrine
With a very large St. Christopher
his hands bound with rosaries
the flickering saints eye level to me
I wanted to shrink into the smell of melting wax

the statue was black;
this was my god.

Though he wasn’t allowed in my parents’ gauche temple
(the shrouded space between secrets)--
our black neighbor was kind to me...

my god was
down the street
watering His lawn.

when I breached the subject, I’m not sure
the visceral reaction,
how my Stomach Dropped a
Cold Prickle over my arms
when I knew I
had
fucked up Religiously.

and god was an old bearded white man
with Exceptionally Large Hands
it left me unsettled

(old white men
behind oak pulpits they spoke like
Puppeteers)

and a sunday spent on green pews learning
they gave
god
to the white man.

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