she walked into a crowd, bowed in devotion to an unknown cause, opened her robe; her anger exposed, and yelled, ‘my call to worship will be at your expense, now bow your head to your new goddess of death! ‘ the blessed sister finally made her pain known to us, killing seven men along with herself.

my spirt disturbed by the thought of the pains she endured to love like she did. a conviction heightened to an unsettling degree of follow through. blindly she kneeled, and selflessly trusted that her message would register in fire and schrapnel.

her body a bomb, and mine a small city. i never knew a love that fucked me up as much as the blessed sister’s did.

This poem was written/submitted by michael james eddy.

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