Every day I eat one more cloud from the sky

I am trying
to open the heavens

I am trying
to fill my mouth with sin, so I may speak to God

Or to the sun
and ask it—humbly—not to burn us anymore

to pretend there are still clouds
pretend there are no holes in the sky

Or I’ll say to God (the sun)
I am a lamb(‘s-ear), fill me with your wrath (rays)

so that
the others shall live (I may bloom)

DT McCrea (they/she) is a trans-anarchist poet, a reader for Flypaper Lit, and Pushcart Prize nominee. They love the NBA and know the lyrics to every Saintseneca song. Her work can be found in Indianapolis Review, Gordon Square Review, Honey & Lime, mutiny!, Stone of Madness Press, and others. TWITTER