The Preacher Man, a poem by Gail Constable at
Alexander Krivitskiy

The Preacher Man

The Preacher Man

written by: Gail Constable


Kissing him was my
Religion, his body
Was the Temple
Where I worshiped
Night and day.

His words were my
Scriptures, imprinted
On my mind, his
Voice was my choir,
Full of Holy songs.

My body burned in
The fires of Hell for
The Preacher man
I loved, he was my
Lover, my redeemer,
Now he’s long gone.

I thought he was my
Heaven on Earth,
Sin could be his
Name, but he was
Just a candle’s flame
On the altar of my

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