when you were mortal, you dripped of it, reeked of it so badly the gods got sick and left, but that's not your fault baby, never was, but you thought it was your fault anyway, so you rode across the world and the universe and the infinite galaxies out there and slipped stars and alien dreams and far-fetched hopes in your eyes and skin until none of you remained, and then you came back, but the gods are still gone, and now you are too.
IMMORTAL
YOU ARE READING
I, Girl
Poetryi am my own god, my own spirit, my own prayer. -- a complete series of 44 poems concerning girlhood, dread, and catholic guilt.
