O God, forgive me for being distracted by the hauntedness,
the latent scraps of leftover rain from the hail storm that hit us
right before I cut my tail off to make me seem more human
less afraid
more human. O God, forgive me, I left them there
in the grave place
where I am cut out of them by the scalpel of the upper hand.
O God, I know I have been made
out of love to spread love like butter across the breakfast toast I made for them
the last night we spent together, I know that I am supposed
to transform the particles into something that can be beautiful
if you wait a little bit,
if you wait until I am retaken,
if you wait until I leave them for the last time
and in our absence, O God,
let what remains reburst,
float across the galactic planes
until it finds someone else & nests there
right inside. Take the traces of me
leftover from the tragedy of life like discarded meatbones—
these traces that have merged, O God, with the last memories
I possess of them before I ran, the soft scent, the colored hair left behind
like DNA evidence, the quiet-pull of them that did not suffocate me—
take this and gift it to someone more worthy. When we return,
give us to someone
who will see the ghastly elements of us
still breathing through the world, and, even in our loss,
unearth our beauty to forgive me for what I have done.
back | home