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Only a Prayer, Nothing More by Meg Lubey

Only a Prayer, Nothing More 

Green grass, show me something new and tell me this isn’t the end.

Crack an egg over my hair, let it ease down my temples,

scoop up my headache in its cold shell and bury it.

Convince me that my anxieties are more than delusion

and less than grief, arriving far too early.

Pull me by the wrists and bury them deep into wet sand,

soften me with rough shells and salted waves.

Beach me to the point of mud in my mouth, dirty this body

until it’s clean. Let the night bring maraca crickets

and bass line toads. God, explain the rules of this card game again.

Explain to me what it’s like to be a bear cub. Now a mama bear.

Now Goldilocks. Keep going. Pack up all this hand-me-down furniture

and carry it across state lines. Tell me this isn’t the end. Remind

me what it is to speak. Let me try it with dry eyes.

* Title borrowed from Florist’s “Only a Prayer, Nothing More”.

Meg Lubey is a visual artist and writer currently working in Northeast Ohio. They are also the author of a chapbook titled "About Cutting Limes and the Moon Being in Half". You can find more of their work at


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