Do you remember the first
you accidentally killed?
How you squeezed it too hard
in your fist because
you wanted to keep it long enough
to show us?
No one knows what you did with
the light, or where your hand
has been since it happened,
but they’re all curious.
When did it get bad?
When did your voice turn into an
There’s a man at the door who wants
to save your soul. Says he’s been
looking for you,
that God sent him a message telling
him you needed his forgiveness.
The act. The circus of it all.
I’ll tell him to come back later.
Do you remember when you cracked
open by accident,
spilled your firefly sun all over my floor
like it was wine?
I do. I saw it. Proof that you
were still here,
glowing somewhere that you
forgot you could reach.
Tell me about everything you buried
and how it came climbing out of
you with a vengeance. Tell me about
beauty and the beast, the hand and
how you remembered you could be
both the thing that opens and the
thing that closes.
Come to me.
Forgive yourself for the things
that turned you into a ghost.
Let me watch you love yourself
Caitlyn Siehl, Phantom Hand (after April Sanger’s “The Light Inside Us”)
IM SO PISSED OFF THAT WE DONT HAVE BALLS ANY MORE
I WANT TO WEAR A HUGE DRESS AND BE COURTED AND DANCE AROUND AND HAVE MY GOWN SWEEP THE FLOOR AND BE ALL ELEGANT AND GRACEFUL WITH GLOVES AND SHIT
BUT NO WE HAVE DUMB HOUSE PARTIES WITH CHEAP BEER AND RED CUPS AND HORNY TEENAGE BOYS WHO PUT THEIR HANDS UP MY SHIRT
i was confused at the word balls in the beginning until i finished it