Solve for X

It's two you, 
it's two me
it's our steady red harvest.
It sees through thick skin, giving 
bones to the darkness.

It's father-logic crossed with
mama's mysticism. 
It's belief that the unknown
is where it isn't. 

It's you against me
on squared-up occasions,
It's addition, then division, 
then it's multiplication.

It's blunt-tip theories,
it's chewed-up erasers,
it's lipless black kisses
on scraps of white paper. 

it's paper-cut palm lines
under origami moons,
it's a red sky warning that 
it's half-past June.

it's rain falling backwards
from clouds in straight lines
it's wet-headed prayers
to invisible shrines.

it's our ten crossing fingers
it's the search dogs sniffing,
it’s two lines in the dirt
to mark what’s been missing.

Its plane, a horizon,
to counter this thesis:
I’ll never smell god 
without selling secrets.