God Themselves

By Jae Nichelle

Let this book be a celebration of queerness, Blackness, and love. Let these words be a modern church, these poems a holy space.

Rising star and spoken word poet Jae Nichelle debuts her luminous thoughts in God Themselves, a new collection of stirring poetry. Nichelle taps into her experiences of growing up in the South as a queer Black woman to courageously confront the effects of a forced religion and the inherent dangers of living life in a female body. God Themselves is divided into three equally moving sections: Everything, Everywhere, and Love. Nichelle braids her wisdom––as seen in the poem “What to Do When There’s Nothing You Can Do”––and witty generational humor––seen in "Sanctity: An Exposé"––into every poem. If you’ve ever contemplated who, what, and where God is, find comfort in these words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrews McMeel Publishing
• Release date: Mar 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781524886646

Book preview

[poetry]

Trigger warning: themes of self-harm, death,

mental health, suicide, blood, sex, violence.

Contents

Everything

First Litany

Black Girl Catholic

Choir Director/ God Don’t Talk

Elevator

Three Churches Burn in Louisiana

Jesus Saves

What to Do When There’s Nothing You Can Do

we create our own coming of age

Beauty Mark

From Her Bed

haiku with alternate endings

Lover, We Get Old

hands

Sanctity: An Exposé

Sanctity: A Consideration

the little g god of white things

Question

Tangible Heaven

Prayers in Which I Type Hello God & Let My Phone Predict the Rest

You cannot complete this assignment the day before.

Revelation

Everywhere

Second Litany

to come back 

Possession

Golden Shovel 

[some days I warm soup]

What Happens In This House

[some days I burn the soup]

what you can choose about your body

[some days the soup makes it]

From Her God

Btwn Ur Thighs

I Am Angry, & I Will Not Go Back to Work

Gawd Goes to Jail

Gawd’s Family Reunion

Prayers in Which I Type Well, God & Let My Phone Predict the Rest

Directions for Breaking Apart

Isolation of Self

I call on god when I

Now

Done in the Dark

as the bird

the little g god of alcoholic 

Singing & Driving

Testimony After Failed Suicide

What You Must Do

prayer as edited by uncle ruckus 

Sci-Fi with Black Lead

The Poem in Which We All Go Back toWhere We Came From

Love

Third Litany

Corn

prayer for you

the little g god of aux cords

as the river

I Imagine Joy

sometimes what I see

This Is About Nakedness

Prayer in Which I Type Today God & Let My Phone Predict the Rest

When the Last Time You Went to Church?

From Her Laugh

Complete the Sudoku

THIS WAS WRITTEN

How I Know Things Are Bad Again

Diary of a Sad Black Woman

Watches Paint Dry

Worthy of Praise

MAYBE: GOD

For Pecola

Barefoot Duplex

(The Play)

Psalm 161:

A Book Reminds Me I’ve Known Joy

Publications

Acknowledgments

About the Author

i found god in myself/ & i loved her/ i loved her fiercely

– Ntozake Shange

First Litany

of home

father, take us

bring us home

where the Thibodeauxs sell

boudin links from a truck

bring us home

where the air sticks

hot on my neck

bring us home

where they shout

how many? into our vehicle

bring us home

where my mother repeats

how many to all bodies present

bring us home

where my cousins & I

confer & shout 4

bring us home

where my cousins stay

bring us home

where sundays are greasy

& wet with sweat

father, take them

bring them home

my cousins & friends

& the others

bring them home

only if it’s like you say

bring them home

where the city is gold

& there is joy

bring them home

I beg, where my cousins

are full of joy

bring them home

where I can join & when

I do

bring them home

I do with memory, I serve them

bring them home

hot links on their chariots

bring them home

where they peel back foil,

drip grease down

their hands

they are home

we are licking fallen bits of rice

from our hands

they are home

even sticky,

my hands

they are home

melting into yours

Black Girl Catholic

I like dipping my hands in the metal bowls of water & making everything I touch holy. Holy forehead, holy chest, holy lips. I am too old to sleep through sermon, too young to listen. Holy pew. Holy basket for offering. My grandmother passes soft mints to busy our mouths. Not busy enough. Holy sweet. She doesn’t listen to me, but she will to the man commanding standkneel. We accept his crunchy bread. Holy body. We eat God. We eat, yet I hunger for softer things. My auntie won’t let me see the Bible on her phone. She knows I play games instead. I dip my hand again as we leave. Holy me. Flick some on my brother. Holy us.

Choir Director/ God Don’t Talk

I sing in the shower/ & the choir with me depending on the angle of