• Lammergeier Staff

If God Were a Blueberry Milkshake | Daniel Zhang


we’d spend every sunday slurping him up,

my boyfriend and i blowing bubbles in jaded

mason jars, carving glass shards like ice cubes

melting in the sun. across the street communion

is held and christ whispers forgiveness


is the ultimate miracle and he’s drowned out

by the purr of the soda fountain, the electric

limbs crinkled on radio, dishes bludgeoned

by man’s spongey hand. across the street they eat

christ’s body and drink christ’s blood and the girl


across the counter slides us our bill, baptized

in burger grease, the sweat of truck drivers departing

for pilgrimage, forgiveness walking plagues

through her desperate eyes. i realize i can’t

pay the $7.30. i’m saying sorry to her and i don’t know why


my boyfriend steps in the bathroom and i follow, daniel

in the lion’s den. he’s standing on a toilet, staring

past the clerestory at christ’s mansion, staring

at children watered down holy, expunged of sin, staring

as they scrounge church buses, their shoes melting

the pagan asphalt.


they’re pointing at the rainbow

-striped diner, forgiveness walking that bleeding

tightrope between their lips.





Daniel Zhang is an Asian-American poet from Watchung, New Jersey. His poems have been published in Jet Fuel Review and are forthcoming in The Lumiere Review.

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