bless the sunrise, past time, + fantasy

poems by Mary E.



bless the sunrise

we bless the sunrise with our
hungry open mouths
& frantic restless hands,
starving for salty-sweet holiness
& hot copper rivers of blood
we cough up prayers between curses
& our eyes burn like stars
as we stare straight into the sun.



past time

it’s not too hot, you say / i lean into your car window for a kiss / my bare feet melting into the asphalt / sweat dripping down my back & yours / you’re only wearing a bralette & shorts / i toss my bag & flip-flops into the back seat / say hurry before my mom tries to introduce herself

she knows about you but not us / & i want to tattoo your name across my chest / yell it from inside my room while everyone’s asleep / let my soft heart explode into pink letters that spell it out

your lips curve & tires squeal / you zoom down the street where my siblings & cousins play / i know i’ll hear about how fast you drive later / but i wave to my mom, just now making it out the door / yell sorry, we’re late!

it’s not a lie / it’s past time for you to kiss me / to pull my tank top over my head / past time for us to drown in each other / on some dead-end gravel road in the backseat of your parents’ toyota camry / past time for me to touch you in ways no one else has / to hold your voice in my mouth  like communion

my mom drops her shoulders / rolls her eyes in the rearview mirror / i forget about the lecture i’ll get when i come home with a towel around my neck / hiding the bruises from your mouth 

as we peel out of the neighborhood / rolling through stop signs, driving down the middle of the road / you open the sunroof & hot wind whips through the car, blowing our hair into our mouths / i laugh & your
eyes spark
send lightning bolts
through me
instead of sweat
i run my finger down the
inside of your arm,
take your fingers off
the gearshift
one by one
i feel our heartstrings
twisting into each other as i
put your fingers in my mouth,
taste dirt
& oranges
& nail polish
& you
i buzz from my
head to the
tips of my toes  

heart attack is pouring out of the speakers / the bass shaking the windows / your hand is shaking in mine / you are looking at me like i could hold galaxies in my palms &
is bright & shining &
hot & i
am holding you




i want to fuck her in church
during the moment of consecration
when god comes with us
when the priest says this is my body
the bells ring once, twice, three times
i will worship
throw my arms around her knees
and pray that heaven feels as good as she does



Mary E is a queer poet whose writing focuses on sexuality, righteous anger, hope, and love. Her work has most recently appeared in Rose Quartz Magazine, Quercus Literary & Arts Journal, and Iowa’s Best Emerging Poets. She loves words you can feel and taste. You can generally find her in a quirky coffee shop either reading or listening to poetry, with a latte, blue pen, and notebook nearby.