In my dreams, I am so pure
I don’t need a bath,
or a secret pill to keep
my liver from exploding
like a piñata.
There is an artery,
I believe, for safe passage of faith
through the body’s dark.
Fickle,
I am almost alive as the next
person.
Brimming with desire, a real
boy, except for the bones lighter
than plastic.
An Ostrich’s eye is bigger
than its brain, God’s eye is bigger
than my desolation.
The expansion
of the universe is the expansion of us.
I hope no one looks me in the eye
ever again, I remember saying when
I caught wind of my prognosis.
You should know I tried counting down,
scattered my heartbeats like seeds
upon things that watered woe.
Whereas, God was busy, leagues above
tilting sunlight into my bone marrow.
Pamilerin Jacob
