thor
Xochtl H.G.

​
my heart has been ripped out and nailed to the wall
we have brought this upon ourselves
there are silver strands in glass jar inhibition (the remnants of werewolf bullets)
soil too
of our graves we dug in the middle of the night when we realized our innocence (our parents) were never coming back
we misplaced our names that night (all night) but it was just part of the process
dismantling and re-attaching pieces of ourselves to
hijabs and temples and the jagged coast of england
this is the night we chose to have
you’ve started to remind me of a god
striking lightning with your eyes
and word is you’re a neo-nazi but you seemed to treat me fine
we tend to intimidate with fractured first impressions but we
decided against crashing a nearby party when we saw the
haystacks and banjos and candles
we thought maybe it was a quincenera
(we decided maybe it was a birthday party for a little seven year old kid)
who had no idea of the walking devastations
they almost crossed paths with
good thing too as there are
dirty crumpled feathers
hanging from metal hooks
in our shoulderblades
 
 
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