At sinner’s church. Benediction in heels. The body of Christ sways in front of you. The collection plate rains from the sky. All week performing alchemy. All weekend on the front lines. Rearrange the battle fields in my dreams. Open my eyes and it is so. I thought your lips were the universe. I pray to the goddesses that I know.

The heroine of this story is a villain, a bastard. Black lungs, bloody nose. Bourbon. Marijuana. Goddess worship. She says I am a liability. That I drink too much and care too little. She is both true and false. Both fact and fiction. I am somewhere in the middle. I am no one at all.