New gods

I am queen of cats and moon, headlight lamps
and sidewalk weeds; we stopped our odes to
the everyday and altars fall to crumbled dust-

this world goes ever on and all the kings
are buried deep; we must crown ourselves if
we hope to keep the sacred numbers strung-

the holy revenants will turn to dust,
diamonds cracked around grinning bones;
I will be the queen of crows of feathers stuck

in chain link fences-

I cannot do this on my own; drop your wreathes
for interred things; the dead listen but they can’t
speak and the wishes they know how to grant

won’t mean much to us these days; we need
kings and queens of streetlamp games of spinning
tires on abandoned bikes, we need princes of

abandoned chalk-art, lion tamers for the night that
falls in smoke and burning leaves, the season turns and
radiant heaves of light left down for the dying time-

we’re all we have to light the fires, all that’s left
in sweet-spiced mist; we need gods of cobwebs
and corners, gods of forgotten baseball bats gods

of all the lived-in things we pray to wordless,
and complete- the sacrifice cannot drain; come
crown yourself in tin-foil circlets-

we need gods for these latter days.

By Lindsay Maruska

Biography:

Lindsay Maruska is a thirty-year-old forever student who is pursuing a second MA degree while raising one child and five dogs. She is interested in modern mythology and the intersection of regional gothic and social commentary on industrial ruin.