wildscape. literary journal

Small Theologies
by Veronica Tucker

The maple leaves turned inside out before rain,
praying or surrendering, no way to tell.
At breakfast, my son asked
why people make mistakes
even when they know better.

I told him we are made of longing,
that our cells remember being starfish,
and sometimes we break things
just to feel how real they are.

He dropped his toast, picked it up,
brushed it off with small, reverent hands.

I didn’t tell him how often I still pray
to the wrong gods
out of sheer habit,
how many wishes I’ve buried
in my own mouth.

about the author // Veronica Tucker