Two poems by Lindsey Heatherly


hell, I know I’ve fucked up

a thousand different times

in a million different ways

and that sometimes holding on

is gripping sheets by the fistful

and packing fabric into the hole in your chest

until it reaches your legs, your feet

your arms, your hands

until your body is the escape route for your mind

tell me what thing I did that broke the grace

appointed me at birth

tell me what it was I did so terribly

for this hell to come round

like clockwork, round and round,

a carousel of tricks, ways to die,

ways to try 

to not slip through the cracks

every damn time

“A Mercy of Good Things”

Sometimes I wonder,

when a string of unexpectedly good things

settle onto my lap; I wonder if God has chosen

to give me a life full of goodness to take the place

of an eternity meant only for those who have not denied

their father in heaven. I remember asking my dad,

when I was young, and he was still a preacher,

how so many bad people have such wonderful lives,

and he told me sometimes God provides a mercy

to those whose end will be in the pit of fire, and I’m left

to wonder if I broke the last straw and the good

that is happening in my life is a mercy afforded me

by a god who gave up

Lindsey Heatherly is a Pushcart nominated poet and writer from Upstate South Carolina. She works as a pharmacy technician at a psychiatric facility. Writing is her second love, her daughter being her first. Her work can be found in various online and print journals, such as Pithead Chapel, Emerge Journal, Red Fez, SVJ, Versification, Trampset and others.

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