Atlanta Black

Good Light by Andrea Gibson

I. 
Though I don't remember, I remember my birth
was my first yes. Though I was pushed, yes.
Though there was screaming, yes. Though the light hurt, yes.

I wanted the yes to last forever so badly that I told myself:
We're built like drums. We couldn't make songs
if we had never been hit. It was a desperate theory.

When they told me god was always watching 
I said, Who wants to worship a diary thief?
I didn't dare say who wants to worship anyone

who would see everything and just sit there doing nothing
while the devil flossed his teeth with the bow
of my prettiest violin?
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From Lord of the Butterflies pg. 17