Lighting candles in the shade
of high priests and saints,
she prays for a peace that only exists
before she discovered her power.
She cartwheels from one man to another,
paints her eyelids with graffiti,
dreams of marigolds and picket fences,
as she is used,
her body recycled,
her rent taken from parts
her mama warned her to hide
in mahogany church pews polished new
in ways her soul can never be.