My friends tell me, find someone else who feels like home.
I’m trying to consecrate myself—
divinity used to rest in me, I can still make
sparks in the palms of my hands;
the Saints still know my name.
My house is still sacred—
find sanctuary here and heal.
I cannot go back to yours,
until it is saged and sanitized.
Throw out the towel she used—
she has defiled it. The sign of the cross
can’t save her—no demons or angels
want to answer her call. The spirits
were never entertained by excreta.
I want your prayers burned onto my skin
She’s already gone. She won’t be here
ever again. I want to draw blood from
you as you whisper these into the night.
Make sacrifices so you can be sanctified—
I have the oils to anoint you.
I leave a circle of bite marks around your heart
so she knows who you always belonged to.
MARISA SILVA-DUNBAR is a Latina poet. Her work has been published in work to a calm, Chanterelle’s Notebook, and Marias At Sampaguitas. Marisa is a contributing writer at Pussy Magic. Her work is forthcoming in Dark Marrow, The Charles River Journal, and Dear Reader. She is the EIC of Neon Mariposa Magazine.
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