all the beds are made – samantha lucero

when did you keep god under your tongue,
like
an uninvited pill
from that plastic nurse behind a wall,
masked
and reaching out to hand you an orange
mood
in a paper cup made in L.A.

for whom did your milky eyes blur,
or from whose unseen stare did the water
of your ribs buckle and hide
when you knew that worship was a mask we
wear,
that rituals and skin
give us a tendency to forgot how to say no?

i was born in a summer cage that sold
whispers to me
in body-sized trash bags, flung at donation
trucks where you wait and
where you drive up and pry a hole, pull out
unwanted secrets you can take home
and cherish as yours from other people’s
unglamorous lives; a boy scout’s book
on how to make a fire.
a girl scout’s book about how to cook on it.

my heart’s in a shot glass that says
‘i ❤ san francisco.’
on the floor by a fireplace
in his basement.

and i think that’s where i swallowed ‘god.’


[Sam does sixredseeds.]

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Literary Collective

31 thoughts on “all the beds are made – samantha lucero”

    1. So glad it wasn’t just me! I would read a stanza. Stop, go back to the top and read two stanzas. Stop and absorb. Go back to the top and read three stanzas and then wanted to read it again. Because: “when did you keep god under your tongue,/like an uninvited pill/from that plastic nurse behind/ a wall,/masked/and reaching out to hand you an orange/mood/in a paper cup made in L.A.” Every time I think about “when did you keep god under your tongue,/like an uninvited pill” I sigh. Because its that fucking good.

      Liked by 2 people

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