Gee Dash Dee

When I was six I had this
idea, this image
about holiness, that holy was a
chair.

It was Sunday School, she was
talking
was scraping chalk and she said
G-d Is In Everything
and wrote it too, mysterious middle dash,
in the looping cursive of a Grown Up
which looped the way a whisper does
when a Grown Up says something looping
it must be true.

And she looped to us
sitting in that semicircle
G-d Is The Hills
The Earth
and her hands shook
spun down like melty ice cream
The Spirit Hears You and Knows You
And He Is Here,
In The Beauty Of A Sunrise
(even in this room? I raised my hand)
Even In That Chair
she smiled
Even In You.

My chair was orange plastic
worn down in the center
stray jean fibers from a different kid
were wrapped around a loose seat screw,
it had three holes in the back
pencil marked
a doodle of a boxer with fists
and I whispered Gee Dash Dee, are you in there?
I’m sitting on you
Gee did not reply
I was in his mouth.

We went to Olive Garden that night
the pasta looped like cursive
and I thought I saw him in my spaghetti.

My toothbrush was probing for a holy thing between my teeth
and I asked
Can you walk backwards through years
and undrop me from the sky?
Would it be that easy?
and I spit Gee out in the sink.

And I came back, last year,
to that old dusted room
they replaced the chalkboard with markers
my teacher was gone but
the chairs were the same
and I thought about the chairs,
were they always
this small?

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