An
Effigy for Saint Jude
Honey
sweet confessions
And
a vibrant peach mouth.
Sore,
lazy tongue
Embarrass
me from a pulpit-
Sounds
of a tired church symphony.
Worshipping
behind the pews
Where
you call me by name.
Make
me drink the bitter wine,
Metallic,
swollen lips
Pressed
against the chest of a saint.
Rub
holy water on your palms
And
kneel at a broken window.
Cut
my hair with a shard of glass,
Offer
it to a cherub, softly-
And count the tolling of a bell.
Eulogy for a Sweetheart
Poppies in early June,
Staining clenched finger tips red -
The color of skin against violently soft words.
Quiet lovers in open fields
Planting seeds next to wildfires.
Hurricane Season
Your fingertips
against mine
Moving up
up
up
Touch my lips to
find your name-
The one your
mother gave you.
It rained the
night you were born
And you’ve been
filled with
Thunderstorms ever
since.
Violent skies
dance across your eyelids
And I’ve seen you
choke
On the rainwater
in your lungs.
If you hold me
closely
I’ll drown with
you.
Flower Girl
She looks at me
and
Flowers grow from
my fingertips
Reaching out
towards her sun
They are destined
to die
Every time our
hands touch.
I say they will
come back
If we keep
watering them
But she is living
in a drought
And so we exist
side by
side
Never
moving.
Megan Cassiday is completing her B.A in English Education at Saginaw Valley State University and has plans to go on to her M.A. after graduation. She is also currently writing her first chapbook—although she has no plans for it to be done anytime soon. You can find her on Twitter @MeganLyn_