November moon underground frozen
Thaw in darkness, dream, rut, down there
Buried in the soil church swelling with
non human existence. Old sea shits extended to
celebration but Preacher’s wife and fa’afafine
together in sculpture in food in feed in a name in an apology in a
Cup of tea. Our Father who art in heaven
Lower knees onto the pubic area. My december minister
wants you. My December man creeps at night.
Val Rigodon is a Brooklyn poet, writer, and artist. She is a 2019 Poets House Fellow. She has worked with The Moth and has had her story “Pas De Une” broadcast over the radio in the Moth Story Hour. Her work has been featured in Ginger Collect, Post Ghost Press, Deracine Magazine, Elephants Never Forget, and Anti-Heroin Chic, among others. She also believes that the prison system needs immediate and drastic reform.