I found seven letters and four seals pressed, I break them with angels, I break them and rest
And of seven angels and nine words and fall we find that the world remembers nothing at all
we grind and we grind
we mill wheat and bone
we build up a tower and shoot God from his throne
What more what more than a twelve foot ditch
I fill it with lightbulbs
I fill it with pitch
“you were sudden
a midwinter’s summer day
your voice pulled, soft gravity
drawing in wayward siren souls in its wake and tide.
thank you for (dis)articulating every last part of me
you left me standing, glass-boned and shaking.
A jar of rattling teeth.
I’d forgotten the sensation of howling winter winds
until there stood just You
and the swirling ships
– your voice shone like infinite sight, and devoured me
26 / they / heartsick lesbian
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