God in 80s Movies

by Em Power

This baby is born in pink mood lighting,
synths shimmering as her tiny raw hands
claw at the vinyl ceiling. This baby
is born in a three storey house – powder
blue and Victorian. This baby has
Coca Cola and Chicago running
through her veins. This baby cries prettily,
and her screams fade out when they’re not needed.
This baby takes her glasses off and all
of a sudden she’s just too beautiful.
This baby kisses boys in the rain and
her satin dress sticks to her like something
made of flesh. Like something costume design
picked out for her. This baby tries to scrub
her face but her foundation is stubborn –
five hot showers and the bright burning blue
eyeshadow stays. This baby thinks of death.
This baby goes to Church but all the walls
are blank. This baby tries to pray but there’s
nobody she can think to pray to. This
baby attempts to draw a cross and breaks
her wrist trying. When this baby shows her
Mother the bruises – the violet tendrils
crawling up her arm, the soft press of her
pale body – her Mother doesn’t send her
to the hospital. This baby doesn’t
need a cast if her smile’s still working. This
baby keeps hearing glossy power ballads when
she tries to sing hymns. This baby runs as
far away from the suburbs as she can
but eventually she starts bleeding. Falls to
the ground and paints an emerald lawn ruby.
Her eyes turn glassy and the credits roll.