Her Friend, Her Husband

I like to think I do not hate her a Christian man, heart so bound in Galatians, John, St. Augustine was on his knees, an artful proof begging grace, cursing youth I like to think she will remain in hands, God’s, road to zion travels though, alone, unearthed she digs a grave steep like mountains point to peak A son, husband, job,friend she will deceive believe her eyes for now, in sex, muscles drown, deep sweat a wager's soul wager's debt I like to think she will be found out, that is For her sake and her son, that bent at breast now the toy of restless throbs and wet, used skin I like to think she’ll love again