Part IV · Fallout
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.