Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

Every Sunday by Keith Landrum

Every Sunday

my dad woke me
every Sunday morning
with his records

I didn’t want to
wake up

he played the same
three
gospel records
and at
five
years old
I did not
appreciate them

I did not
want
to go to
church

I told my mom
one Sunday as she
dressed me up,

“I hate Jesus!”

“How can you say that?”
she cried
I did not
respond

I didn’t know
hate
I just thought
Jesus
made me go to
church

Sunday school’s
lessons
were always the
same

my dad’s
three
gospel records
spoken as fables
with all god’s
evil
edited out
and all Jesus’
love
left in

because
we were
Pure
we were
Sinless

we needed
Jesus

we didn’t need
god


 

 

Keith Landrum lives in Chattanooga, TN with his wife and 2 daughters. His work can be found in various print and online journals.

 

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