Your god twists its spine to catch a glimpse of you
Made in image, doppelgänger
Don't you see that thing?
The swine that spits behind each of your steps
Leaves empty plots, encourages you to do the work
Be free, pick up the shovel again!
Don't you feel fulfilled?
When I blink, I feel I catch a peak
Something holy around the bend
It beckons, creeps closer
The soul, they say
The soul! You can repent now!
God licks clean your wounded hands
And I let the wine sweat out of my skin
Not a cloud in sight, the sun takes me blistered
YOU ARE READING
Sink Bath
PoetryCollection of short poems surrounding religious trauma, grief, and love written by Cupid's Balladry.
