After Richard Siken

A man was stuck at the bottom of the well on the forest

            trail I walked every afternoon. He

                                    tried to climb out but it was futile: the walls

wore sheets of black glass and moss.

            He called for help so I tried to throw

                        him a dagger but he disappointed me. The blade

shattered his bone like china. We can make

                        a flute out of it, I said. Make music

from flesh. You could be Jesus. I hoped that

             he didn’t know the end of that story, how Jesus' bones

                          were a symphony

of their own lyric. The man asked me

             when someone will bring him up. Is anyone

looking for me? I stayed quiet. I didn’t have

             the words to explain. The wind bounced off

the thin black walls.

                        Somewhere along the window the glass shattered.

            Somewhere amongst the trees

the grass sang blues.

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Saturn Browne (she/they) is a Queer Asian writer. She lives at the mouth of 2 rivers in New England. Her debut chapbook, BLOODPATHS, is forthcoming from Kith Books in May 2023. Find her on Twitter @saturnhas9rings!