Selling Faith
By Emma L. Combes

They're selling God on TV
and diamonds in the streets,
you buy salvation
and a complimentary
microwave.
Semantics surround
and play at your natural human weakness.
Because apparantly,
God is in my kitchen,
and deep within my wallet.
It's only fair, though
'cause healing's not free,
and money is cheap.
You're pawning gold off on 3rd street
to a man in a coat
who says 'you need some helpin'.
He smiles, all teeth and redemption
and trades you God for
six dollars and thirty-seven fucking cents.
Plus a complimentary microwave.