no other god worth asking

grace let me learn to articulate me.
let me grace listen. grace let me rest.

let me walk here as long as i can southern sun,
mothertouch, grace to my weary left eye.

grace if not stone let me river the valley
i laid in to let me let grief like a friend.

let me be free grace from loathing, addiction,
free from fury, fear, obstinance, death of despair.

grace let me know ancestor forever, forgive
what i’ve failed to understand.

let me grace listen. grace let me mountain.
grace let a world with a name like you.

by Kristin Lueke


Kristin Lueke is a Chicana poet and author of the chapbook (in)different math (Dancing Girl Press). Her work has appeared in Sixth Finch, Wildness, Frozen Sea, Maudlin House, HAD, and elsewhere. A Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, she was a finalist for the 2024 Porter House Review Poetry Prize and received the Morris W. Kroll Poetry Prize from Princeton University, where she earned an AB in English. She also holds an MA from the University of Chicago. Kristin lives in northern New Mexico and writes at www.theanimaleats.com.

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