&

By Ana Božičević

Who do I write to
If you’re long gone.
When people say,
It’s between myself
And God
What if the God part is off?
Someone turn God
Back on!
The kind that
Makes me feel like
It’s the same
If I write to you or Them
Or to an old
Long piece of wood that
Lay by the stable—
I know it’s
Not supposed
To be permanent,
None of it and no one, so
Why did They
Make it so precious
Then. Are people
Destroying everything
Out of the need
To take
And keep everything?
Yes. For me,
I don’t
Need much
But the comfort
Of another world
The parallel universe
Where somehow
It worked out
And birds are singing,
There is peace
When you & I
Are an ampersand away
God’s in
The ampersand . . .
But no one says
Our names together
Anymore
We wholly ghosted
Each other
& it’s been a long time
Since I talked to God—
They got too high
And thought
They were dying
Sent me a postcard
From heaven
Saying I hate the sun
And I miss
Lucifer
The middle manager
Turned crook
He picked a better animal
To hide in
The snake that
Still on some nights
Forms an ampersand
& thinks of love.

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