Sep 22

an ode to an aching space

I hold my mangled tongue
Inside of my mouth 
My teeth were always daggers
Waiting to fall out
I spit blood in the sink
And my reflection stares back
Like she knows what i’ve done 
I keep waiting for a monster to craw 
Out of my throat
    To vacate that aching space
That has begun to mean home
My body is a polite acquaintance
& i view it with amusement,
Counting my own ribs 
    Instead of sheep
       He is always looking for converts &
I stare at my bloodstained hands 
Before i leave a mark on his heart where his 
    God used to be &
My desert is full of empty bodies & broken altars,
I remember my mother's voice telling me that 
We bow to no man 
            So when he tells me to get on my knees
I spit instead & hear my own voice 
On repeat & repeat & repeat,
Ghulhu allah & ghulhu allah 
    You saw forgiveness stuck between my teeth but 
       You do not reach out 
Because God made us to be heathens, 
Didn’t he, 
I have known i was rotten since 
I was 13 & afraid of the hollow space 
Echoing inside of me 
    Is it bad that i see her face 
In every holy thing
Every broken cross 
Every fallen tree 
        They tell me i am bleeding.
         It is not my blood. 
So i stuff firewood into the empty places
I am supposed to fill with gold 
    A funeral pyre in my stomach 
    A burning chapel in my bones.