and this means two things; time travel is real, but god is not. an angel looks for drugs in the cushions of my couch. i pretend not to notice. i put on the movie about the vampire and the vampire hunter. my loneliness is rabidly soft. when the movie turns me on i take off my underwear. the angel doesn’t notice. the vampire describes violence. the hunter describes dawn. their bodies press together like a top and bottom jaw. when it becomes clear someone is going to die, i turn the tv off. the angel is sad. unsuccessful. i’m sorry, i say. let me look inside, the angel says. i tell the angel i’m empty. god isn’t real. the angel wants to try anyway. i turn the movie back on. the angel sticks their fingers in my mouth. i think god needs to hurry. i think, hurry, god. make the world. save the vampire. save the vampire hunter. put something inside me that belongs. the angel finds my teeth and thinks they’ve won. the movie catches on fire. i’m not sure who died

costume party in the city of dreams. i am a moth. my wings don't fit through any doorways. the city man sleeps on a couch, dressed like a movie. the pictures on his chest don't move. i think this is a nightmare. the city is the devil's closet. the city is a museum on the moon. the city is a dragon's egg. a dragon's only egg. i try to find a way out. broken, my wings trail on the floor

the city of dreams is a dead mall in zombie winter. there is no getting warm. all prayer happens in the food court. the city man brings me a cherry slushie, then tells me to stick out my tongue. we won’t get married. my crush is a lake inside my chest. i ask the city man if he knows how to swim. we kiss in a closet guarded by two blue dogs. when i emerge, i’m pregnant. i’m terrified. i touch my body obsessively. i name my baby rock land. i name my baby thunderstorm. i don’t stay much longer. when i wake, sorrow fills my bed with hot water. i touch my body obsessively. i’m wet. i’m empty. i taste cherries and snow.

my doctor’s eyes are the color of sun burnt grass. her cheekbones beg for a tongue. i don’t want to think about how i know her. we’re both uncomfortable. in my defense, her husband isn’t my demon. his need has no teeth. but i’ve seen him, the villain in many movies. i want to know if she loves him. if she has, for love, another. a knight with a flower garland. a fortune teller with hot hands. i can’t say any of this. we’re here to talk about my body. my body’s death wish. i don't know. it doesn’t feel like it matters

and i tried to prepare myself. windows covered in blood; white silt on the floors. to let it in would be tragic. i consider it, acting bored. i smoke a cigarette. i peel an orange. inevitable, i think, as i open the door. it is a thrill not unlike a late summer storm. there is the smell of fall. and i do, fall, through many worlds. through many incarnations of fable. through many roofs of pine. i enter the other side swimming. i am able to convince myself i have always been swimming. the demon cheers me on. it says it knows what i want. more than god, i ask. more than all the mermaids. the demon thinks this means i want to be a mermaid. my mouth is suddenly moth. yes, the demon says. yes. look at my claws. i can give you gills.

ghost of the lazy river. god put a moat around my house. i didn’t hate it, but i wrote many lamentations. i performed them, at night, in my bikini and my snorkel. the birds and the fish called me star- then god let in a dog to teach me hunger. suddenly, i knew loneliness. my lamentations paled. the birds and the fish don’t call me anything. i can’t remember how i died. is the dog still there

do you believe in magic. in moths. in doorways. it all confuses me. i keep my hands under my pillow when i sleep. i think this will keep me safe. i'm often wrong. let me explain: the hell-gate is small. hip-high. quiet. it sneaks up on you. an arbor of muscle; eternal gape; ****** maw. tissue like tinsel, and beyond, a celebration. revelry of the dead. i join them. i always do. only, i'm flesh and they're bone. i'm shy. i get seasick easily, and i can't drink their alcohol. i don't know why i'm here. i don't ask to go home. i don't even believe in doorways.

i am lily orange in this dream. the city is a swamp in my basement. the city man appears, wearing my robe, to measure the bone in my thigh. to hold my hands in ice until i, delirious, describe the past. bunny ears; blind dog. i don’t think this is a fantasy. god ****; time machine. if you find me gone, know i was stolen.

the demon finds my bed in the city of dreams. i am overcome by a tragic sort of thunder. when kissed, i turn to water in the demon's mouth. when woken, i turn to water in my own. this isn't sadness

god, i’m a poor vampire. nobody loves me and i’m sad all the time. i think we all are. the other vampires. and i lied when i said i didn’t hate you. you’ve been asleep for so long. god, do you have the internet yet. do you have a phone. can you set an alarm. things are getting weird in the garden. we’re all vampires now. sometimes we turn the animals into vampires so we don’t get too lonely. god, i don’t think we remember you anymore. and, like, it’s not like we need you that much. we all know we’re vampires. we all have matching hungers. but it doesn’t make us friends, so we do this thing i sometimes call the holy pretending and then we play this game i don’t call anything. i think it’s old. you probably know it. there are winners, but i haven’t met any. we need our mom back. please wake up.