Last

Last

The gown floated with breath
Trapped against my awkward body.
Three times, the sound of water
Echoing as if we stood in a grotto,
Three times you held my body
And declared me holy,
A vessel for your dooms.
I stopped believing, but out of us
All, I am the only one still
Breathing, still holy.

–JR

***

Proof pic

Terracotta Pomegranate

A chapbook of seventeen poems tracing a path through nature from trauma to love.

Get your copy!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s