The Light the Light the Light the Light (One + Two)
The Light the Light the Light the Light (One)
I’m trying to pray to
god so I can stop thinking about
god & about the first uncut dick
I ever saw & tenderness & about how
horny I am & how tenderness
doesn’t matter today & won’t matter tomorrow.
I got a nosebleed during sex with a new lover.
The world’s literally on fire & we were born
into the middle. The middle of
the light. I’m sorry
for talking about birth & sorry
for talking about sex. I’m distracted &
busy & waiting for a text back. The new lover
made me squirt & then I cried
about my dad … what does abject mean?
I’m an animal in my middle.
I’m an animal digging against my middle.
Tenderness doesn’t matter only coincidence.
I don’t have time to pray. I’m busy
sending nudes to my entire contact list. I have an iPhone 6S
& I’m covered in bruises.
I want to tell you I’m kinky but I’m only anemic
& we can only witness from far away: the light
The Light the Light the Light the Light (Two)
I don’t know how to start a fire.
I only know why one might end.
Sex is only a small death
if you actually come.
I’m addicted to wondering
about my unconscious & I continue
& continue to try to find the light.
I pray to god for the light.
There is no reliable
name for any of this & we have established language
is impossible. I pray to
god my new antidepressant
makes me less horny. Am I in love
or am I just smoking weed every night?
Am I in love or am I
eating a particularly good orange? No matter
how fast we burn
I wouldn’t want to be
caught dead in the middle of a war
alone like this.
From here on out I promise
I’m only going
to let hot people hurt my feelings.
Margaret Yapp is from Iowa City, Iowa. Her poems and essays have appeared in Peach Mag, Apartment Poetry, The Minnesota Review, and elsewhere. Margaret is an MFA candidate at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. Find her on the internet @bigbabymarg.