A Selfish Votive Zoe Aldrich The candles burn And they keep burning And the doubt blossoms Outward from my breast While the rot spreads From my ribcage Along the lines of the cross Backwards from holy ghost To son, to my head where The father rests and recoils The wax drips and hardens like my fist sets like my jaw when they say Sorry for your loss As if it will start any of our hearts again As if it will open his eyes again As if it would’ve given me the courage To meet them, instead of fixing on carpet Fighting tears as he rasps The last words I’ll hear fall from his lips I turn my back and plead to the heavens
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