down the holler

in the frigid basement
of an empty church,
I kiss a girl on the lips
and see God,
standing red-faced
and unholy
in the corner of the room.

he’s got a pack of smokes,
and he lights one up—
takes a puff—
while the smell of
nicotine and burnt offering
rushes my lungs
and leaves my head spinning.

I get a call
from my grandmother
and she tells me
she is praying.
God hands me the lighter,
and I don’t ask her
what she is praying for.

Dylan Scott is a transgender writer based in Louisville, Kentucky, who writes poetry and prose about loss, grief, and the experience of queerness in central Appalachia. He has performed slam poetry at Morehead Pride Festival, and attended Governor’s School for the Arts in 2016.

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1 Response to down the holler

  1. laurastamps says:

    Love this!! Excellent prose poem.

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