Father
I could eat a priest anywhere.
His blood will taste like communion wine,
only heavy with sin, because I know.
It will rise to the top of my stomach,
and I will vomit out the things he touched,
the souls cooking like meat in wine,
and they will be free.
Priests sound the same everywhere.
They will call me a witch, because they know.
I will hang like an old pink dress
on a balcony clothesline, fluttering.
And my marble tombstone will crumble
into communion bread dust.
I haven’t even finished digesting.
His blood will taste like communion wine,
only heavy with sin, because I know.
It will rise to the top of my stomach,
and I will vomit out the things he touched,
the souls cooking like meat in wine,
and they will be free.
Priests sound the same everywhere.
They will call me a witch, because they know.
I will hang like an old pink dress
on a balcony clothesline, fluttering.
And my marble tombstone will crumble
into communion bread dust.
I haven’t even finished digesting.
Learning to Drive
Sometimes in my dreams you
tell me to get into your car like
it’s last summer,
& then you just stare at me with
squinted eyes like I’m your baby
oiled teen-dream sun
shining too bright,
or maybe it’s because you don’t
recognize me anymore now that
I’m all grown, aged as wine, &
you’re confused.
Your car gets hot but we don’t
roll down the windows because
we don’t, can’t exist in the
context of everyone else,
we don’t make sense.
It’s a wrong turn
down a one way street. When
the traffic’s too crowded
there’s no way out until dusk
& now no one sees, so we can
breathe.
tell me to get into your car like
it’s last summer,
& then you just stare at me with
squinted eyes like I’m your baby
oiled teen-dream sun
shining too bright,
or maybe it’s because you don’t
recognize me anymore now that
I’m all grown, aged as wine, &
you’re confused.
Your car gets hot but we don’t
roll down the windows because
we don’t, can’t exist in the
context of everyone else,
we don’t make sense.
It’s a wrong turn
down a one way street. When
the traffic’s too crowded
there’s no way out until dusk
& now no one sees, so we can
breathe.
Francesca Kritikos was born in Chicago, Illinois. She currently attends the University of East Anglia in Norwich, England. Her Twitter account is @fmkrit.
