it was not love that plied the switch
mis-sis-sip-pi
goddamn.
cathedrals sing in sweet ballad bathing laps of death
no mass without moaning mothers
upturned magdalene foreheads beaded in sweat
green bottle tree spirit superstitions line every
beseeching stoop
fearing yet another young Medgar trampled in the yard.
molecules of their spiralling hair twist in myrtle
branches,
becoming untold,
staggering beings of manacles and megacosm
salt over shoulder
they croon this last chorus.

Mya Reyes-Rios is a freshman at Columbia College intending to study English and Ethnicity & Race Studies. Her poetry is influenced by her upbringing in Los Angeles and it explores themes related to mass incarceration, addiction, and inequality. She posts more about these topics on her Twitter, @mielhija.