Evangeline walks in a line that is not straight enough to be good.
By day, Evangeline has been the white-toothed daughter that melts the winter.
By night, Evangeline has blackened her cheeks with the soot-thick circles of doubt.
Evangeline wakes sore and sick and even after the face-painting and skin-patching are done, Evangeline walks in a line that is not straight enough to be good.

Evangeline was born on a sunflower day that left pools on her father's red hands.
At first, the doctor reached in and produced a twisted mess of purple error.
At first, the bird-boned fish-creature that was held to the hospital ceiling light wouldn't cry.
Evangeline was born sore and sick and sent chills through the doctor's white coats even though Evangeline was born on a sunflower day that left pools on her father's red hands.

Evangeline drew pictures of prophetic sadness with her thick red pen.
In school, Evangeline always stood when they told her to sit and shouted in the library.
After school, Evangeline would walk home past the poor-boys and push their faces into the street.
Evangeline laughed like a clawed woman and spread her fingers wide over the sun even though Evangeline drew pictures of prophetic sadness with her thick red pen.

Evangeline loved a man with church-beige eyes and church-soft hands.
At home, Evangeline felt colors underneath his skin as they pushed and exalted under flannel sheets.
At church, Evangeline saw his tongue turn dead-white as he softly repeated all he was told.
Evangeline wouldn't stop wearing red and saying ugly prayers on the streets and mirrors even though Evangeline loved a man with church beige eyes and church soft hands.

Evangeline drank the gray-green cold like it was poison-heavy and milky-sweet.
With him, Evangeline would pick at her dry lips and say "yes" and "no" all day long.
Alone, Evangeline would wail and press on her aching bones with her sharp fingers.
Evangeline got on a bus with a pocket of pills and a grin as wide and floppy as a river even though Evangeline drank the gray-green cold like it was poison-heavy and milky-sweet.

Evangeline walks in a line that is not straight enough to be good.
By day, Evangeline has been the white-toothed daughter that melts the winter.
By night, Evangeline has blackened her cheeks with the soot-thick circles of doubt.
Evangeline wakes sore and sick and even after the face-painting and skin-patching are done, Evangeline walks in a line that is not straight enough to be good.