bite into these luscious fruits, and godhood shall be received. not that it is a foreign thing; you have always thought yourself divine here. when i rose from the spark in the darkness between your ribs you pressed my cheek to the mud and made me crawl across this soil. humanity forgotten, you molded me into the first crime, my first deception. now here you fester, slumped and aching at the gates. we are truly mortal in these lands and i laugh, a sharp guffaw, our bodies alone in the wild decay. full limbs now hollow and weary, we walk rotting, and with the slow rolling of our chests we ease to dust; i am become animal become ash
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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.
