In Culture, Poetry by Nicole Crawford

i’ve been searching for peace 

like sunday mornings with

oceans on vinyl and between my thighs when i look at you

smoke cleansed and made anew 

repenting for my sins like the son before his father 

i met you on my knees

the only time that it was righteous to beg for mercy 


these days we plead to the holy ghost to make it out alive

left out in the cold

blood stained and bruised

with scars to remind us of who to trust 

and those who would’ve killed us

with praying hands

sage couldn’t make this clean

– rawest forms