Merciel

I went to church again but only to
assure my friends depravity had not
corrupted me, despair had not destroyed
me–rumors will proliferate when gone
for weeks–but then I figured to invest
my life in friends who considered it gold,
not gossip, so I harvested my roots,
I salt the soil with rumors suggesting
addictions to sodomy so the seeds
I treasured once won’t flourish and entangle
me in withdrawals on nights nostalgia strikes;
I left behind lies and embraced new lives.