Empty Condom Packet in a Churchyard
Let it mean love.
Let it be they were only briefly lost
and seeking privacy.
Let it be their idea of God
drew them to this soft grass
with the little stone overhang,
a glossy lizard darting away.
Let it be urgent, golden waves of breath
filled one and then the other—
reaching for the eternal in this bright sun.
On second thought,
it doesn’t have to be love
but let it at least be communion,
a cracking open that binds
rather than breaks apart.
Wherever they are now,
back on their bicycles
or having a coffee,
let the sacred fill them still.
Let it be they were only briefly lost
and seeking privacy.
Let it be their idea of God
drew them to this soft grass
with the little stone overhang,
a glossy lizard darting away.
Let it be urgent, golden waves of breath
filled one and then the other—
reaching for the eternal in this bright sun.
On second thought,
it doesn’t have to be love
but let it at least be communion,
a cracking open that binds
rather than breaks apart.
Wherever they are now,
back on their bicycles
or having a coffee,
let the sacred fill them still.
Fall 2026
Melinda Clemmons’ first book of poetry, Closer, will be published by Pine Row Press in the fall of 2026. She was a finalist for Ex Ophidia Press’s 2025 Richard-Gabriel Rummonds Poetry Prize as well as the Wandering Aengus Press Book Award. Melinda’s poems and stories have appeared in One Art, West Trestle Review, Rust + Moth, Midwest Review, The Imprint, and elsewhere. She lives in Oakland, California, where she works as a freelance writer for nonprofits.
Art: L. I. Henley
“Scorpio Girl: After Rebecca Hart Olander's Singing from the Deep End,” 2026
Colored pencil, acrylic, notebook paper, found The Jesus and Mary Chain album art
“Scorpio Girl: After Rebecca Hart Olander's Singing from the Deep End,” 2026
Colored pencil, acrylic, notebook paper, found The Jesus and Mary Chain album art