Dear Samaritans, I’m writing this to let you know
that everything’s ok now
 
The last time we spoke
 
I was smearing the red flag
of myself around the tub;
 
the bottle & knife clinking
 
in my hand. I mentioned
that since I was a child
 
I have been narrowing
 
all the questions in the world
to matches, striking them
 
against my skull, I don’t know
 
how I felt nothing so utterly.
I’ve learnt patience,
 
not everything has to wisp
 
from my fingers. There is a priest
who prays for me; they fly
 
off his knuckles & hang in the air,
 
their feathers line
my pillow. If he could see
 
these gaping white smiles
 
on my arm, if he could taste
the dreams that shear my sleep,
 
he’d understand; God sees me
 
as a tiny pink coffin, wandering
from place to place, waiting
 
to fall into the open earth.

*Daniel Sluman is a 24 year old Undergraduate studying English Literature and Creative Writing at the University Of Gloucestershire. He has been published widely in journals such as Popshot, Shit Creek Review, & Orbis. His debut full-length collection will be published in 2012 through Nine Arches Press.