I want a named, holy thing
to fuck my brains out,
to turn my need
to be filled up
and spread out
and hungry
into some kind of Grace.
I want to cuss my lover’s name in ecstasy
and have it be the prayer I always hoped it was
— Caroline Randall Williams, "Transubstantiate, Redux or, Sublimating Lucy Whilst at Church," Lucy Negro, Redux
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I want to have sex in a church and feel undivided—
communion is intercourse, after all
Caroline Randall Williams, "Transubstantiate, Redux or, Sublimating Lucy Whilst At Church"
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I want to have sex in a church and feel undivided—
communion is intercourse, after all,
the taking of a man’s body and blood into mine—
to feel undivided when I wrap my legs
around some body I do not love
just because he’s a big boy,
and that is the only way
a man ever seems in charge
in this life.
It is the same want.
It is the prayer I cannot pray alone.
— Caroline Randall Williams, "Transubstantiate, Redux or, Sublimating Lucy Whilst at Church," Lucy Negro, Redux
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They keep finding me,
these men called Who is Like God—
finding my mouth and body,
and I am become sure
that the name itself does not matter.
The name is only a harbinger,
. is only the closest articulation
of the violent love I feel at prayer.
— Caroline Randall Williams, "Transubstantiate, Redux or, Sublimating Lucy Whilst at Church," Lucy Negro, Redux
accessible version:
They keep finding me,
these men called Who is Like God—
finding my mouth and body,
and I am become sure
that the name itself does not matter.
The name is only a harbinger,
is only the closest articulation
of the violent love I feel at prayer.
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