Dear Melissa [who has never been holy]
who has never been holy won’t be won’t let it in
what has died has been familiar and would be born
where before I knew you nothing came and could be
come face of my face flesh of my flesh what it was
came into my hands so little comes and so pulled
back the body where it was we who listen to holes
pull ourselves down inside them who cannot come
call down walls pull down what we pour into us
holy holy what cannot be ever in the hands pulling
pouring what was I knew you into the hands I was
a body to be held and holy singing of nothing comes
a body what is holy born wholes all of us pulling
into what was poured then hold hold I knew you
what cannot be punctured cannot be born what it was
Originally published in Colorado Review. Copyright © 2019 by TC Tolbert. Used with the permission of the poet.