|
Comment on this
article
These small blasphemies
by Elizabeth McLaren
To his altar on the first day she brought
glances half-lashed, alluring,
and then later her perfume
dancing behind her, heels clicking
Her company was next, and
the coffee was more bitter and made with as
much conviction as the conversation
she offered
She hadn't meant to brush fingertips so soon,
but when he passed her the dinner-
plate she had rose-coloured
nails as an oblation
Silently declared herself with onetwo straps
slipping from pale shoulders shifting
under his hands (her body, her blush) and
lips wet with gifted ambrosia
She wouldn't yet devote her heart,
(having experienced the
capriciousness of idols past)
but waited in hope for a sign of faith returned.
He reasoned through her scepticism by counting
rosary vertebrae in half-light with head bowed,
lips moving downwards as in prayer, until she acquiesced
to that which could be stated for the first time once
and proved
again
again
Return to:
|