You Shall See
I sit with crooked knees, bent
like the browning blades of grass
trampled by turtles
and picked apart by doves
My moans aren't moans of joy
but parables spewed at sunlight
burning crosses that bare my way
but they are undesirable
as so am I
I watch in filth as hustlers walk away
sevens and elevens bound to come today
Homeless I am not
but hopeless fills my day
I am the daughter of lillies
and the son of wilted spirits
Drink in my cup
as blood bleeds in your pain
the moon will rise again
and you shall see
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