i am a universe

the boy says period sex is disgusting and i slaughter a goat in his living room.

What more unconquerable revolt is there than that of a resurrected woman.

my depression is an angry deity, a jealous god a thirsty shadow that wrings my joy like a dishrag and makes juice out of my smile.

This year, I am relearning to be chosen. Which is to say, I am relearning the way a kiss swings its golden legs off the edge of your lips before falling into a red and laughing mouth, like a heavy, heavy poem. Which is to say, I am returning to myself, to water the houseplants hung in my corners and shake the dust from the shelves and reread the pages bent backwards. This year, I am relearning religion. Which is to say, God is a microwave meal and the sermon sits, swelling, on the brow-bones of the women who love me. Which is to say, this is a prayer and in my own way, I say it loud. Which is to say, I whisper it into the morning, when my voice is still remembering itself. This year, I am relearning to be touched. Which is to say, I am remembering the way to empty someone into yourself and walk into the night and become lighter, become light.