always on the verge
of rot and worms and sanitizing my hands with rainwater
hiding under tree trunks and the weight
of a trillion apologies
i'm feral, foaming at the mouth
desperate pleas and the formaldehyde
prophesying
i know more than you think.
there is nowhere i'd rather be
than scattered across the fields
and my arms around your torso.

your hands
they feel like religion
take me to heaven, sit me at your right hand
tell me i'm your angel
bury me in the backyard
cover my body with wet soil and your tears

it's the least you could do.