Homeless Jesus

by Emma McCoy

Another town, another drop-in center, another night of issued

blankets smelling of disinfectant, the kind of rubbing alcohol

that made him think of flu shots and vaccinations. Another night

of stories in that chaotic hour between check-in and lights-out

when people staked out territory with their thin blue mattresses

and coats and dogs, if they were lucky, lentil soup sitting watery

in their stomachs. Some nights people listened to him, other nights

they didn’t. His stories of black-booted men walking the freeways,

children hiding food in foster homes, megachurch pastors

finding their jets filled with snakes. He spoke of sidewalk corners,

cracked television screens, churches filled with snow in the summer.

That night, as he sipped sticky apple cider in the dark, a few whispers

reached him. And what’s this about quiet water stuff? Where

it’s always safe to sleep out in the grass? Is it even a place to go to?

And he knew he could work with people such as these.

In the morning he rose and said come and follow me.

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Emma McCoy has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Stirring Literary and Thimble Mag, and reads for Chestnut Review. She also writes for Viewpoint Magazine. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/.