JOHANNA GIBSON

wet bodies and the sound of the bass
the dj’s hands, an ode to creation
communion calls at the open bar
and everyone takes only the blood

this dancehall is a crusade
praise and worship for all the things lost
a prayer to purgatory for all the things lost
before the party began

and the man on my back doesn’t know
that last night i lost my lover to another woman
he only knows that my body is crucifying him

this body, a soft nail, a sacrifice.
this rum, my judas
and this sweat,
an anointing of protection from regrets
the man on my back holding me like
prayer holds god close to earth

pulling me into his tomb
without any promise of resurrection
where i will die without my mother’s tears fallen for me
because he doesn’t know that last night
i lost my lover to another woman
he knows if the girl is drunk enough, tired enough
it’ll be too hard for her to say no.