Across the Crops
here comes sunday brunch and i romanticize the whole thing stretching it like bubble gum out of my mouth and around my finger until i realize the worst part about sunday is its over at dusk.
monday me in a cornfield now follow me with this knife i am too dull to hack through this yellow haze. take a vitamin i swear its only a vitamin and the whole crop drops to pray so now i see myself at a church where all the babies are so fashionable.
sit in the back right on the right. looks like i came late cuz the priest say amen, and a man asks me for my number because the sex knows no shame. don’t worry i will feel it for him my head drops like a shower, i try not to be so binary as in i try not to be so very hot so very cold. city of crosses crops of confusion church in the basement and all i know is i really love being in a room with people who worship you like wolves under moonlight and that sometimes i say the thing you want me to.
Tamara Nazywalskyj is a 25 year old poetess from Montreal, Quebec. She holds a BA in Creative Writing from Concordia where she is also earning her Masters in Education. Tamara's work can be found on https://www.westmountmag.ca/tamara-nazywalskyj-3/, as well as in the e-zine Montréal Seraì. She earns a living teaching youth in inner-city schools and through summers working in Construction. Catch her reading her work on Instagram @tammram.