Good Girl
It starts soft—a hymn stretched thin across the headlights of a truck on an empty road. Then, it alters. As a child, —half prayer, half warning: I was an angel. Yet, I remember pressing my lips to the mouth of the villain on that static on the screen. When I was older, I left it all on Valentine’s Day. I stood alone, staring at Venus at The MET, her belly is a full moon above a graveyard, Cupid overhead like an afterthought. Another night arrives, a shadow of the same old song. I crave the affirmation: good girl. So tell me to undress, as Titian’s waiting Venus, tell me to wait at the window—lover who left his wife, tuning his Spanish guitar, his voice is the ocean’s blue-dark mouth, empty of fish and shipwrecks. Tell me again, I’m still a girl, mouthing the old prayers and cupping my hands. A story in Islam goes: a prostitute dipped her shoe into a well for a thirsty dog. One good deed and God’s grace fell around her in warm rain. I just want that one drop of mercy on a long stain. But I can’t fast on holy days; I’m bound by this hunger. This god feeds on meat fat, sardines, black olives, and the sap of rotted pears. I devour so much whole: bodies, skin, and their sharp seeds. I am uncontained. The rind is the rule, bitter and unbreakable— promises of lush, hidden interiors. Now, even the dawn pulls its hand back. If only goodness were mine to claim.
This is so beautiful. There's so many good lines omg
this poem is amazing. I can’t wait to read more from this poet—a total WoW