eulogy

dearly beloved

we are gathered here today

to say goodbye to

the me who didn’t say no

the me that couldn’t say no

the hands over my mouth

the side turned eyes and sneered up lips

we say goodbye to

the disappointed sighs

and the are you fucking kidding mes

we say goodbye to the screaming

and hiding

and shrinking myself away

we say goodbye to

the me that never knew she mattered

because no one thought to tell her until

it was far too late

dearly beloved

we are here to say fuck off

good luck

good riddance

no thank you

and never again

we are here to say

that the me I was planting

and watering

and tending and mending is here

that I’m here

and she never has to cower again

MAYBE

Just for a moment I need heaven to be real

I can’t promise to go back to church

And I can’t promise to quit sinning

But God can you please make heaven real

I know we’re not supposed to say this part out loud

About how we know that we’ll never know

And maybe its just a collective coping mechanism

And isn’t that worth something too

But God can you please make heaven real

It doesn’t have to be for long

I mean I don’t know how boring it is to live in the clouds

With no cheesecake factory or Netflix and chill

I certainly wouldn’t want to spend my afterlife watching ants that eventually forget I exist

Just for a little bit

Just long enough for me to feel a salty breeze or see a butterfly

And think to myself, “That’s them”

Just long enough for me to get a peek

Just so I know they made it home safe

Are you there God?

Because they’re gone

And just for a moment I need heaven to be real

prophet

beloved, I need to tell you that god can speak your language

I need to tell you that angels have better things to do than keeping score

that you are no less holy piss drunk

in pissed streets, in sweaty sheets

than you are in Sunday parking lots

or pews or potlucks or thoughts and prayers

I need to tell you that god cannot be contained, understood, jailed, or molded within pages of books

or lines of poems

for gods sake throw away this poem

I need to tell you that any spiritual leadership worth it’s pillars of salt

comes with permission to throw their words in the trash whenever you see fit

vessels are content to sit on a shelf until there is water to pour

please beloved, throw this in the trash

and if your heart aches you can smooth out the pages

words can only be made better by the creasing

buoy

I’m sorry.

I’m so very sorry.

If I had known then? You wouldn’t be so bloody

I’m so bloody sorry.

Of course, now that I’m no longer 6

No longer 14

No longer 19

I have the tools to build those houses

To bring you in from the rain

But its too late for this hammer, these nails

It’s a flood and you drowned long ago

As our foreheads kiss, hot and cold

All I can think is maybe its possible to build a life raft from heavy limbs

The faces still bobbing, the mouths still shrieking, this ocean of lost girls

There are too many, I have to get started its time to get started

But I’m choking on sea salt and my lungs are storm drains

Oh dear, its too late

Maybe my next iteration will think to save herself first

black hole

static and prickled
you live on the edge of your skin
and I’ve been lost inside my ribs for years with
a mouth full of blood and rage

but then I followed breadcrumb kisses
to the surface of the sun
and I thought I was a moon, a body
to reflect your light

until you held my face to the mirror
so I could see we
were both stars
all angel and ruin

tell me this story again with
your lips against mine
supernova