the preacher’s daughter packs a bag, thinking she’ll take herself to the woods to curse. She’s never said even damn or hell before. Once, she said pissed off in her own head. She worried over the shame for days. In the trees, the birds wait quietly. She can’t stop thinking about Ananias and Sapphira, how God struck them dead for a simple lie. Those lesbians, her father called the two women who put the little library outside their house. Naomi had a woman who followed her everywhere. God never struck them dead. The daughter kneels under the pines. Flannery O’Connor knew the truth. How a girl could want to do something bad. She fixes her mouth to say a word. The one woman had seen her taking the book from the box, had smiled and waved at her like somebody kind. Damn you, she thought of saying to her preacher father. Don’t let me catch you over there, he said back.

Rachel Custer

is a 2019 National Endowment for the Arts fellow. She is the author of God’s Country (Terrapin Books, forthcoming) and The Temple She Became (Five Oaks Press, 2017). Her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in many journals, including Rattle, OSU: The Journal, B O D Y, American Journal of Poetry, Antigonish Review, and Open: Journal of Arts & Letters (O:JA&L), among others.

More on the Web: By, About, and Beyond

⚡ Three Poems by Rachel Custer in ONE ART: a journal of poetry (18 May 2022)

⚡ Featured Writer Interview: Rachel Custer by Adekunle Adewunmi in Open: Journal of Arts & Letters (18 January 2020)