do the things you’ve loved remember your hands
when you are dead?
there’s a screaming place we’ve all been
where you sink into the emerald shallows
and make a frenzied promise to god
some anoint their heads and come back up but
mother said there was a river at the mouth of hell
and there i held my scarlet heart in trembling hands
and asked a prayer
let the radiated shards in my throat sleep tonight
for i have swallowed a thousand suns to feel god’s light
Mela Blust is a moonchild, and has always had an affinity for the darkness. She is a poet, a painter, a sculptor, and a jeweler. She has been writing poetry since she was a child. Her work has appeared in The Bitter Oleander, Isacoustic, Rust+Moth, Anti Heroin Chic, Califragile, Tilde Journal, Setu Magazine, Rhythm & Bones Lit, and more, and is forthcoming in The Nassau Review, The Sierra Nevada Review, and The Stray Branch, among others. Her debut poetry collection, Skeleton Parade, is forthcoming with Apep Publications in 2019. She is the social media coordinator for Animal Heart Press, as well as a poetry reader for The Rise Up Review. She can be followed at https://twitter.com/melablust.