What I Mean when i say i'm agnostic

You ask me if I know the Good Lord and I tell you about the time my 

mother dropped an old coat in the battered women’s donation bin at church. 

Where was her god? 

saints? 

ffriends with thicker pockets or softer hands? 

There was no god there, no 

saint or 

good friend. 

There was a devil, there, with a personality disorder and beheaded Barbie doll – 

No Methodist devil, no fallen angel with a resentful streak, 

But a devil nonetheless – 

So. No. 

I don’t know the Good Lord. 

But I know the Good Book, its words, its testaments and promises.

You’ll never meet someone who more understands 

Old Testament revenge and New Age forgiveness. 

I could tell you all about 

Cain and 

Micheal and 

Peter. 

I could tell you all about 

The cold of the bathroom floor and the way a frying pan echoes when it cracks against the skull. 

I could tell you all about

Rosie, and her son, dope-stunted at birth,

and where she and my mother were when their father died 

(in the car with him, spared the wet dirt; forming legs and hands in utero). 

I could tell you all about

all manner of ugly and sweating things. 

Just let it circle. 

Just let the bugs buzz themselves dead.

About the Author

Riley James Russo is a teenaged author split between Ohio and Pennsylvania who endeavors to explore the human experience through various written forms, including novel, script, and poem. More information on their work is available on their Instagram, @rileyjamesrusso.