i saw the rapture and was disappointed

by Kyrah Gomes

the night it happened, i was designated driver of a car
full of metallic glitter and sheer hope. the streetlights
melded into gilded streams, the backseat of broke mouths
flowed with treasure. how many of my people will
go to heaven? we are muddied brown enough to laugh
on hands and knees angled obscene. i envisioned
more darkness, but here is how it went: the sky
became an unbuttoned blouse, meteor-streaked,
stretch-marked. our chins tilted towards light shards,
our burned shells fought to swallow it all. now,
a fleeting sign blinks out $20 palm readings. i know
they will draw the same conclusion as your blackened
fingers on my pulse: there will be no Elysium for us,
only a body. nothing will hold us as tightly
as our skin. still, we move like thieves at dusk,
pearly teeth turned salt, crystallized
by heat. the future unfolds
in our bones and lingers like an ache.

kyrah gomes (she/her) is a multidimensional artist and fresh fruit aficionado from nyc, currently in tampa, fl. she writes to create something tangible and is as much of a poet as any other human being. her poems have appeared in Thread Magazine, VIBE, The B’K, LEVITATE, Journal of Erato, and other publications. you can send her comments, hate mail, or your favorite playlists on instagram @kyrah.isabel, twitter @reveri3s, or via her website kyrahgomes.square.site.

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