Tyler Tsay

notes on origin story

she is 22 & pregnant.  the baby is born & does not utter a single cry

* 

& here is the prize,
a young boy on his knees
his slowly rising head thrust down 
three times from god
& like all things that split, this is how 
i came to be, a parable of hands 
dug into the spine 
the perfect pillow for crying wolf

*

to forgive,
to forgive is a brutal word.
is swimming in your own blood to survive.

*

o thousand palaces already built
from the air pockets of my blood 
splattering pavement where they worship 
me, call me lifegiver, god, savior
not faggot, not slut, not yours.   

*

ever since your funeral, i have watched 
each boy after you turn into a closed casket,
a dark promise that breaks open to reveal
nothing inside.  a tower, 
any tall thing with the potential
for falling, the harsh pavement 
that was unwilling to take you inside it
& how i began to envy the ground itself,
glued notebook paper to my elbows
& thought myself a snow angel, the snow 
bank a wet kiss across the forehead

*

once god created man
& along with him came the naming, 
the fear that he would find the truth
of it all—
i made this mouth to please you.
i made this mouth to kill you.

*

i ask god a second time
why a knife without the courage
to pull