fallen By Savannah S. Miller

I reminded them I was baptized before

kissing my ex-girlfriend as you all know

baptism is an assurance you get out of jail free

like being in a sorority and not taking

after your father a trifecta I keep buried

in my back pocket with my illegal

switchblade knife and the pepper spray

I have smuggled into concerts in the

clutches of my cleavage without a clear

bag to save me in security my girlfriends

are gone now and all the boyfriends

too except one and some of the

friends are gone now too like callouses

on my hands from punching walls and

pulling strings and pecking orders in a

dead end job sometimes I wonder if

God will truly forgive me all the things

I have done not the girlfriends because

I do not need to be forgiven for them but

the lying and staring out a window

hoping for something more than what

He already gave me for my selfishness and

melancholy they tell you in Sunday school that

everyone is a sinner and we all fall short of

the glory but I have encountered people who

shine like a Morningstar does that make them

the devil or an angel on earth I do not know I

just open my mouth and make way for the

world to shove its ragged tongue inside

ABOUT:

Savannah S. Miller (she/her) is a queer and disabled writer of poems, plays, and the things in between. Her work has been featured by or is forthcoming with Modern Language Studies, Jelly Bucket, Flash Fiction Magazine, Watershed Review, the Sierra Club, and others. She is the author of the poetry collection Route 460 (Red Rook Press) and the chapbook Transit​ (Bottlecap Press). Read more at savannahsmiller.com.

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: Switchblade --- NIKI