All those saints

eating disease
to be one with the world
to live as fully as possible
in awareness of
all of it
Licking wounds
You get
used to it
Drinking the water at the shrine
after suffering bodies have
immersed in it

The thing that unsettles you
must become
your magnet
Trust;
keep going until you find
good in it
People, too, if you can
overcome disgust without
being an ass about it
Yourself, too, if you can
look at your body and embrace
the accrual of
trash in it

A vibrating mass
of little blue creatures
with silky manes and
waggling tendrils
breeds and feasts
They live and die
in the great Pacific
gyre of fishing gear
and microplastics

I’m looking for
the saint of that

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This poem also appears in the January 2024 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 89, No.1, page 8). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.