A Bargain with God by Cymelle Leah Edwards

I want to rediscover my favorite meal and lap the forty-something woman in a multicolored

windbreaker at the track; I want to re-rescue my pet, this time with less tears; I want to mitigate

the earth’s core before it shatters and thanks me for a wild ride; I want to hide in the cupboard

instead of the basement; I want him to find me waiting instead of kneeling; I want to be forgiven

for sins before I commit them, like a comic strip reveals its ending and expects your eyes not to

wander; I want to obliterate borders and build mossy hedges in their place; I want to keep gaze

with my mother until we placate and reconcile over something else from my childhood; I want to

see snowflakes as delicate shapes of ice and not atomic torpedoes blitzing to ravage the kinks in

my hair; I could do without the joblessness; without the spitting image of my father reflecting in

the piece of plastic I use as a mirror; without desert shrapnel making its way into my door-less

apartment; without the methed’up homeless men fondling my breasts while I try to sleep; I want

what you promised back when the ocean dried and you said that’d be the last bad thing; I want to

forget how to pray so that words seem less like blowing into fire and more like dancing; and, I

could use less poetry to temper the unexpected.




Cymelle Leah Edwards is an African-American emerging poet in Phoenix, Arizona. She was recently accepted to pursue her MFA in Creative Writing at Northern Arizona University. Her work has also appeared in Elm Leaves Journal, The Cerurove and Gaillardia, with work forthcoming in Nightingale and Sparrow.