“I am no goddess, no daughter with her mother breathing winter, fury like silver in her teeth, frost in her hair. I have tasted my blood, ripped nerves out by their roots, dipped my hands into gasoline, the smell of it heady and rich, a forest fire in my throat. I have taken your throat in my teeth, tasted the salt of your skin as you breathed my name not like prayer because I am no god, but like water, air, a feast after fasting for three days. I take your sacrament. I take your mouth full of blood. I take, I take, I take.”

— Crystal Vega-Huerta, “I Am No God”