The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 4 | Page 12

7

Three poems by lucas galvin

our bones are stained with the worst of it

fucked up kids

have a way of finding each other

we wear our mother’s shame like strands

of inherited pearls around our necks,

our father’s temper trembling in our hands.

the sky is a raw bruise

tinged with light pollution

from too many strip malls

and sprawled out in her

backseat i cannot see a single

star

no one has touched me

without adding lye to

my shallow creeks

and i cannot help

but wonder if the

writhing turns her on

the thrill has long since

faded from knowing

when someone wants

to fuck me

it is the same look

of longing

that reminds me

exactly where i come from

_

Her hand is travelling up my

skirt and I know

she thinks she can

silence the tragedies that

sing in our veins

replenish what was stolen

when our mother’s

backs were turned

but between her thighs

i am a sinner taking