Black Ice

How can you believe what you can’t see?
Jesus said believe in me to Peter, and to others,
and they didn’t blink, they gulped and swallowed
maybe, but no doubt what was belief then,
the way a nausea drools, then convulses you.

In Baltimore it spread because a host of
weathers comes together and the days are black
in their mood, hurt’s just waiting, you are not
anyone special, not chosen, but you believe
in yourself, not words you hear rasped as you pass