Something Holy is in That Bag
Fuck finding God when I have this diamond:
My small sparkling incisor, cherubim crystals,
Thing shoved in a condom inserted in rear
And we just met but my blood is boiling.
O my white firefly buzzing in my ear.
I have trapped you in a mason jar and
Moved us around all throughout the night —
How I have bound us, misery flushing out
All of our conjoined light. The sound we
Both make being shaken when encased
In stone, in dirt, in glass, in a story I have
Never been capable of justifying: how I
Yanked out my back molar to replace it with
A substitute god. My diamond, my small
Sparkling incisor, you little cherubim crystals
With your wings clipped, flapping around and
Looking for the smallest source of holy light.
O God, O God my blood has overflown and
All of the emaciated bodies are on fire.
My glass enclosure has cracked open and
This is what they meant by a healthy fear.
Here, my light is burning just outside a door.
Here, a thing higher than God, taker of lives,
The cry it makes crushed by a boot, my little
Cherubim crystals, you yank out my tongue
And speak in your own unholy voice asking
For the rest of my body back. But it’s mine.
Anthony Aguero is a queer writer in Los Angeles, CA. His work has appeared, or will appear, in the Bangalore Review, 2River View, The Acentos Review, The Temz Review, Rhino Poetry, Cathexis Northwest Press, 14 Poems, and others.