The Ferry Ride

The moon makes me weep,
a gritty weep.
Makes me want to sink
my teeth into toothless gums
My aggression goes against
the tender wetness of age and loss.
I scream.
I can’t continue to obey the moon’s pull any longer.

It drives me mad.

My eyes transfixed
on its unconditional presence.
Meanwhile my fingers sink
into the soil with such tantrum.
I’m hoping against hope that I will squeeze the earth so hard,
she will release me from all cycles.
I scream.
Gums smashing together,
turning saliva into drool
A waterhole it then becomes,
an uncanny place for my death.

Age and loss,
rage and vastness,
civility and discipline,
makes me beckon the airplane flying above,
to come down

Not my death, but theirs

Where the sea, sky, and moon are perfectly situated for a horrible sight
Confirming a withdrawn god,
one whom finds little pleasure
in my loudest screams and strongest fists and longest stares.
I’m emptied.
I scream.
With eyes transfixed and hands in the earth,
I sputter, No,
and pray for a baptizer.
Dunk me and drag me forth,
shave my head, paint my face and clothe me in rough canvas

Call me something.

Help me live into resistance,
the pull of a moon and
a terribly loving God.


1 Comment

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One response to “The Ferry Ride

  1. blessyourbullshit

    that’s real. thank you.

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