Like Religion by Natalie Wee

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Like Religion

          In this dream we
are five years old again.
          small enough to
be swallowed
          by furniture. Hide
and seek where               I
          find more than
your phantom
          limbs climbing out
of my ribcage.

          In this dream we
invent each other.
          Delicate shells
of flesh & wonder
          to split open
if our voices
          fly true.
The pulse as
          magnetic waves
compassing me
          back to your
moon eyes.

          In this dream I
stop looking.
          You did not leave.
Not this house
          that is not a house
but a mausoleum
          of forgiveness.
No wine here, we
          inherit blood
by the tongue.
          In this dream I
wait. The devout
          don’t leave church
even when god
          stops talking back.

Natalie Wee

Natalie Wee is a writer and poet whose work deals with the intersectionality of experiences, primarily that of queer women of colour. She is currently an Associate Fiction Editor at Broken Pencil Magazine, as well as a Cultural Studies & Critical Theory MA Candidate at McMaster University. Her book, OUR BODIES & OTHER FINE MACHINES, will be published by Words Dance publishing this year. You may find more works and a complete list of her publications at