Melissa Broder

Back from the flu today
so in love with power

I wore a paper nightie
over crinoline slippers

ghost nuns soaped my surfaces
and grunted

we wish you could see
how not wrong you are

dear sisters
devoted only to helping me vomit 

prayer candles
on an avalanche level

I forgot my dialect
of defects entirely

a furry creature
carcassed at the altar

I felt so righteous
I humped a humidifier

climaxed on the linens
dropped dead in tongues

a guilty future chimed
but my tea read stay

be not a saint
be queasy

confessing nothing
to a slice of honeyed toast

I was so touched
what I heard myself say.