Scroll Top

Moon and Son

by Eliza Bissett

I must be a blasphemous creature
To come into your house;
Daring to promise to not defile the whiteness while sitting in stains of blood and sweat.

Blood and sweat in a lonely little garden of my own
–But not redeeming, like yours.

My Father is teaching me how to be Holy,
But Mother first taught me how to be Human.
He teaches me of blood made white and clean,
But She taught me that the damn blood always comes again.

–Promised, like yours