Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

it comes down to this

by Sheryl St. Germain


it comes down to this:

a room, a needle, you
newly clean,

a small envelope of dope
that delivers the same dose

as always, though this time
it’s been so long, your body’s forgotten

what to do
with so much



you choose the vein
in the back of a hand
to carry

this last intimacy
a puncture mark

++++the small door

of your death




did you feel it, in those last seconds,
that sudden rush
++++of sun, warmth,
of what you thought
++++++++++you wanted?