Push a camel through the eye of a needle
or
bring heaven here.
Pave the streets with blue
blood, good as gold.
Flip the bankers’ tables,
run them from their sacred places.
Don’t let the house of God be defiled;
kill your local televangelist.
Let no one claim any possessions as their own,
share everything.
Occupy every empty house.
Every room of every mansion.
Turn every golf course into a graveyard,
or better yet a garden—fertilized by
the country club members.
Yes, heaven is a garden
and its fruit is given freely
Delilah McCrea(she/her) is a trans-anarchist poet. She loves the NBA and knows the lyrics to every Saintseneca song. Her work can be found in Vagabond City, Gordon Square Review, Petrichor, Night Coffee Lit, Hobart After Dark and on her website https://dtmccrea.wordpress.com/