Snag yourself on a crucifix & hide
your naked body behind stained glass
(only crooked bodies pray with clasped hands),
swallow lacewings & let them get stuck
behind your teeth, let them sit in your mouth,
feel them with your tongue & breathe ’em in, angel eyes.
Throw stones down velvet aisles,
walk it with a stomach full of sidewalk & draw near –
keep on asking for 8 minutes &
why don’t we wrap ourselves in steel?
you’re too big for slip dresses & Greek tragedies:
brilliant. Don’t choke on pine trees, push ’em
with your teeth & stick their needles in your gaps &
floss twice – daily. Use your throat as an oil
funnel & burn with it. Grief sounds so much like oh god
when you close your eyes & wet your lips.
Jaclyn Grimm lives in Orlando, FL. Her prose and poetry have appeared in The Adroit Journal, Cheap Pop, decomP magazinE, and Teen Vogue. She currently works as a prose reader for The Adroit Journal.