Mary C Sims

Indeterminate

He says, Enough already. Christ—
& if I believed that, I’d have left
the last time. I set my ankles
in his lap & the whole night,
I hold what hasn’t happened
in my mouth. Then, he rode sunline
with stillness, asking, The point, isn’t it?
Just some fucking point? & all the prophets
get it wrong. Like me, past
keeps changing: sets another trap
for what finds us well. He fills pantries
with plums like a first life
knowing it’s first.

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Mary C Sims is a recent MFA graduate from the University of North Carolina, Greensboro and a former poetry editor for The Greensboro Review. Her work has appeared in wildness, Josephine Quarterly, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Carolina Quarterly and more. Currently, she splits her time between working as an editor, visiting art museums with her sister and laughing over blurred Polaroids with friends. Find her on Twitter @mcathes