Wesley Kendall

PARTY’S OVER

God enters the room so I have to hide
my fake Chanel bags. The christmas lights are strung out
like an electric fence. I’m glad I made you a criminal,
says God. Every world needs one like a dirty
floor. I’m surprised to realize
I invented badness. Or that God invented badness
through me. Heaven is a room. Not the one
we’re in. What’s gotten into you? I ask God.
The end of time fills me up like turning on the light
in the evening. Nobody loves anyone else.
I don’t love you, says God. I’m frozen with the sledgehammer
overhead. The ice sculpture is soaking the carpet.
The house deed is held to a flame. It’s what I already know.
But I bring myself to the future like a reluctant pomeranian.
And the future keeps me tight
on its pink studded leash.

 

Wesley Kendall is a poet, printmaker, and textile artist living in Chicago, IL. He graduated from the Evergreen State College in Olympia, WA. Wes cooks brunch for people for money. His poems can be found in Dream Pop Press, Class Collective Magazine, and on his website wesleykendall.cargo.site.