voracious

i slip into bed, head full of tulips.

if devotion is measured

in repetition, i am inconsistent

at best.

morning, mary carved into a bar of soap in my fist,

ornamentation as protection, air of frankincense, voice of

myrrh. unsure about prayer, i waste confession

on a flickering screen,

an island of plastic blooming

another floating downstream

& up, likely stuck, too,

in my body’s rivulets, yet i slice &

seal a mango in another plastic baggy,

remnants, cyclical

confession i am waist high in

bruised fruit at the bottom

of the sea bleached.

midnight, face pressed to a grip of tulips,

vivid-sweet, fresh, i want to swallow them whole.

am i unlatched in my devotion?

sometimes i pray

before meals, more often forget, spitting out

little bones from the same mouth i kiss my lover with.

---

PATRYCJA HUMIENIK, daughter of Polish immigrants, is a writer and performer based in Seattle, WA. A recent semi-finalist for the 92Y Discovery Prize, she has poetry featured or forthcoming in Passages North, BOAAT, Palette Poetry, Redivider, Poetry Northwest, Four Way Review, Guesthouse, and elsewhere. She is working on her first book, Anchor Baby. Find her on twitter @jej_sen.

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