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she takes pockets of time, full pockets 

filled with time / she makes the 

whole year / so holy that whole days 

slip through / whole prayers turn inside out and stay lost


at home in a holy body, i am full up with drip / whole sad songs dance 

through me bumping / rhythmically - a low whole note with 

shoulders pummeling / through a crowd of whole women / who filter 

their love through / me, lovers who distill / me / to a puddle of sip and 

my mother weeps / for her legacy so the music / tears from my lips / 

my guitar absorbs my fingertips / my grandmother’s hands were holy 

too / with touch - she crocheted 

whole blankets / to cover me up


it takes me weeks, whole scoops of 

time and an entirely new home 

every time to / germinate these damn seeds / i carried them 

across whole bedrooms down short streets it takes me / weeks 

to place an online order to make sure they / have 

everything i need before / i ask for it


so many needles you’d think my gender makes me porous / my skin 

so / cratered with self harm that the / t shots feel like shooting / 

stars / i wish upon a scar


but a prayer is not made of promise and my stomach

cannot hold / my spirit from falling 

out sometimes / it spills holy bile in the morning 

up and out through / my mouth - the nausea / erupting avid 


over my tongue

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