Genesis

May 8th 2025

The breeze softens my face.

A long drag of nicotine lifts the weight

of everything that led me

to this park bench—

lost in the hum of an Iowa May,

where bloom and ache coexist.

Maybe one day—

if I may—

I’ll tell the whole story

of how it came to this blistering May Day.

Born from ash,

rooted in sorrow,

you swore never to be your mother’s daughter—

yet lived to complete her legacy

in reverse.

You came like a serpent,

slithering through my Genesis,

whispering sweet nothings,

while your right hand plotted

something else entirely.

Like Eve,

I bit the laughter from your lips—

enamored,

starved for proof

that I was still wanted.

But what began in ego

will be reaped in your rage.

And even now,

as the birds sing above me,

I still pray for you.

Even in this blistering Iowa May—

may you find

whatever it is

you keep searching for.

Read the Next Poem

Predestined Pain