Self-Portrait as the Eight of Swords
1 Minute Read Time
Dear god once again waking in a field
hilts of swords surrounding me blindfolded
just kind of casually tied up again
Kind of forgot this happens to me
Momentarily forget what to do Scream
but be quiet since he might still
be there
In the field of my body I feel each of the eight
winds distinctly I know where they came from
their grit the taste of them along the sides
of my tongue the song of my stillness
coming to me when I need it
My excuse for each sword how it’s okay
how he doesn’t mean it how he’s actually really trying
so I hold still
Jesus this field again how long
have I been standing here
Read more from Issue 21.2.
