i give you a dress
a stone
a handful of broken glass

nothing that’s ever

and i catch angels
with my bare hands

i pull their wings off
and leave them to bleed
and the days pass slowly
and forcibly

like poured concrete

like rust

two years now
since my father died
and i give you bones
and white light
and a dozen reasons to cry

i drive down
deserted country roads in
the last fading minutes
of the day

i put knives through
the throats
of crippled children

i wait for a sign from
any god

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