god says dance so you spin, round and round like
a marionette with its strings cut loose. god says eat so
morning after morning you lick runny yolk off
the kitchen knife. god says jump! and you don’t
want to ask how high but you do, over and over,
stuck in a dream you’re sure you don’t deserve, a dream where
fish fly and you, miraculously, are a believer, convinced
your own fingers belong to someone else when
you reach down to kiss them. god says calm down, it’s just
a mistranslation. god says breathe. god says get off your back;
run run run like your bleeding feet are something still
owed to you. god says no one is fixing anyone else. god says
pretend it never happened. as if you aren’t just
a billion and a half chemical reactions. as if you and the sky
don’t have matching split lips. as if your throat isn’t endlessly,
uncontrollably caustic. god says trust me, i’m rarely wrong. you say
well, neither am i. here is a list of things you know for certain: the average
human brain weighs about three pounds. your saliva
is slightly acidic. the person you love is 72.8% water. god is 72.8% water.
***
Leela Raj-Sankar is an Indian-American teenager from Arizona. Their work has appeared in Mixed Mag, Warning Lines, and Marias at Sampaguitas, among others. In his spare time, he enjoys playing board games and listening to Elliot Smith. Say hi to her on Twitter @sickgirlisms.
***
image: MM Kaufman
Rejection Letters 