Samantha Padgett 

My mother tells me my poems should rhyme

and I tell her there are 100 billion planets
in the Milky Way and it’s pretty obnoxious
to write poetry at all. Sometimes I think
about my oldest sister—how one summer
she swore she kept seeing the Virgin Mary
in our living room. This was back before
the drugs and the bullshit. I’ve never seen
anything holy. Not really. Though once,
I watched a wasp sting my father
and didn’t bother to warn him. At the time,
I felt like God, but no I’ve always been just
a girl in a swimsuit running through the sprinkler.
In physics, I learned about the multiverse theory.
I think in another universe, I find the Virgin
in my backyard, knocking down wasp nests
with a baseball bat. She doesn’t even run
when the wasps come. She doesn’t even scream.

Samantha Padgett received her MFA at Sam Houston State University. Her work has appeared in Poet LoreNew Ohio ReviewDriftwood PressRust + MothUp the Staircase QuarterlyDialogist, and elsewhere. She lives in Kyle, TX with her cat.