Tag Archives: Martins Deep

Masturbation

i map the waterhole in my body for the thirsty animal my mother’s exorcist chained with a chaplet to the sculpture of a crucifix a teal-eyed thing misnamed ‘desire‘ serpentine, & slippery— too slippery to be bound my fingers—they grope, … Continue reading

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Prayer to our Dead

(for my late father, V.I) [i] Our wineskins are empty the journey stretches into the night— night biding the fall of stragglers. a bloodmoon dissolved into the oasis we found, & our emptiness echoed the silence of our palmists. father, … Continue reading

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When they say, “This, too, shall pass”

i say, what if it doesn’t? what if it has come to stay? and it is not in my pastor’s face i say this: an Elijah calling down fire in the language of rain what if it doesn’t pass? like … Continue reading

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