this poem is written by a woman who cannot believe that two-thousand years after jesus christ died for our sins

she has to yell that she is not garbage

i’ve never taken communion

my abuela–sorry, grandmother–was always first but she never went to confession so it doesn’t really cou

i only like churches for their architecture

i have a rosary at home, but the cross fell o

no priest knows my name

but if He died for our sins (i haven’t read the bible)

if He died for our sins (again, i don’t really know)

why is it that liars are given microphones

and fools the ears of many when the only ears they should speak to lie in a golden fiel

why is it that jesus died on the cross, the same my abuela–sorry, grandmother–would pass and color with her

lipstick

but i must yell to nobody listening that i am not garbage

i am not floating in the ocean but rooted to the ear

fixed forever