WHAT WE THOUGHT WAS THE SOUND OF HEAVEN WAS ONLY JUST THE COINSTAR
Editor’s Note: This poem is best viewed on a computer screen rather than a handheld device.
we knew what we looked like our tattered denim hems escaping their poverty
finished prayers we carried from the car. buckets full and heavy jars with tokens thrown in for the weight
green dreams made from pennies on the floor. from what we could scavenge mine held the least.
blending in with buyers we went to our source bright white working machine of glory.
we were not the mother and son you stare at. dumping our surplus into the mouth of a god
like you we were good here blessings to the highest spender in the supermarket. blessed just like you
everything was ours and no one was afraid dark light clean coins bouncing toward the throne
even the dog got a bone. even our sins taken away. cart full of luxury no questions asked
we redeemed we spent we ate
Dare Williams (@Dare_Williams13) is a Queer HIV-positive poet and literary worker rooted in Southern California. A 2019 PEN America Emerging Voices Fellow, he has received support/fellowships for his work from Brooklyn Poets, Breadloaf, Tin House, and Vermont Studio Center. He has been awarded a California Arts Council Performance Grant, and his work has been featured in Kenyon Review, Foglifter, Frontier Poetry, Poetry Northwest, and elsewhere. He is an associate poetry editor at Hooligan Magazine and an MFA student at Warren Wilson College. To learn more about Dare’s writing, visit Darewilliams.com.