Abigail Lilith Ravenheart
Jon Tribble Memorial Award Winner
I lay myself to rest
in light fluorescent; effervescent smile
within the filthy mirror. My shaking hands
still grip the brush; cerulean blue now coats
my tongue. Light-headed rush; the boy is hung.
I lay myself to rest
in acid rain; disdain internalized
springs forth in saline falls. The past dissolves,
no longer spoken; names on gravestones washed
away. Submerging, broken; boy decays.
I lay myself to rest
in sawdust press; duress in forty words
or less. A sentenced death in wax and ink;
defunct, redacted newsroom beats. Adjourned
and empty eyes of pink; the boy deletes.
I lay myself to rest
in adulation; masturbation stokes
a phosphorescent blaze. Entranced as moths
by brilliant lust; the flaming cock from ash
ignites. From boy, to dust, to girl alight.
I lay myself to rest.