Melissa Broder
Back from the flu today
so in love with power
I wore a paper nightie
over crinoline slippers
ghost nuns soaped my surfaces
and grunted
we wish you could see
how not wrong you are
dear sisters
devoted only to helping me vomit
prayer candles
on an avalanche level
I forgot my dialect
of defects entirely
a furry creature
carcassed at the altar
I felt so righteous
I humped a humidifier
climaxed on the linens
dropped dead in tongues
a guilty future chimed
but my tea read stay
be not a saint
be queasy
confessing nothing
to a slice of honeyed toast
I was so touched
what I heard myself say.