finch

i just realized i missed journal poetry day. so.....here it is. better late than never, right?


oh! it's an older one...and it's a form. if you can tell me the form, you'll be my new hero

One Night Stand

Jesus sits cross-legged
on the corner of my bed.
Little bastard, wrapped
in my feather comforter--
Stigmata blood all over.

My sheets are ruined!
I tell him. Blood stains! So hard
to wash out! He stares
at me, wanting me to care
enough to at least give him

Band-Aids for his wounds.
I close my eyes, roll over,
sleep the entire night
without blankets. Come morning,
Hes gone: not even goodbye.