after Hozier’s “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene”
through my five-year-old hands, I discovered the heavens,
toyed vertices of spinning planets.
I spread myself like the universe. with carcanets,
my mama's brothers or lovers, an unkindness of cravens,
reached for my milk & blood. like Jesus,
I could heal with the hem of my dress,
so I became him, my seams thumbed to shreds. though hopeless,
I fed expectant men more, the good loaves,
without experience. every night I pray to be more human
than holy spirit, so I became Mary,
vesselized & venerated, immobilized
into their image of a willing woman.
instead, I rise & warm their wives, too, fresh
minds eased of curiosity from his peeling flesh