Your Fragile Neck So Vulnerable
What’s falling really?
You know and unknow
revelations and splendors.
Some leaps end in a crevasse
helpful with rungs.
As physics plays out, She
feels your twingy innards.
delay sacred joinings
but there’s safety in being
The Holy is blithe on
abandonment as a lie.
provokes a shaken fist She
might not even see.
I asked for the water. Reverend Mother
ladled liquid enough I wished I'd brought
conditioner. Soft is the message of the Lord.
Does Jesus Christ love moms who
inhabit faith like a body of trackmarks
inhabits a T-shirt washed thin,
stretched on skin so lean
a glance from Caesar draws blood?
Come, you mighty clouds,
mystery accumulated by explanation.
To end sufferings, women, mothers
drunk or gone
sexing or gone
we need, what do I say here, we need
not go gentle just be it.
From between their legs, children fall
off a table, bags of oranges
chocked with Vitamin C
Watch the magus
unpack her heart in the heat of Arabian sun.
Spot the magus
lifting her hearts in the heat of Arabian sun.
Oh fat-breasted goddess fat-bellied goddess
born in Africa before all birth,
three sacred rivers flow from your throat
in blues sequenced to heal.
“Drink, Child” was first published in Folly 2012 (be sure to check out the Performing Arts Posters and Matisse Prints collections in the same issue,) and included in Sarah Sarai’s 2013 chapbook, I Feel Good, from Beard of Bees (No. 94, April 2013). For links to her fiction, poetry, and reviews, please visit her blog, My 3,000 Loving Arms (see link below).
-- Sarah Sarai