Conversion
I swallowed starlight when I saw you first,
That night you came in through a holy gate
And raised your hands in hallowed greeting, burst
With beauty in a fevered Sabbath, straight
From lukewarm life including tepid Christ.
He was the son behind theology
Of Christian clouds. Your curling hair enticed
A new religion to the room where we
Stood singing of the old. My tenor voice
Rose up to meet descending tongues of fire
Above your head. I had no free will choice.
My throat became a flaming angel choir
Composed of beings cast from heaven long
Ago, but raised again in sacred song.