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If Prostitution Were Salvation
by Mainon A Schwartzi sit alone and blink unleavened loaves into existence,
trying to stave off the hunger
of unforgotten miracles.
i wish i could catch fish with skin instead of scales;
it always seems that ive nothing
appropriate to devour.
though sometimes my mouth is filled with a current of plum wine
like the aftertaste of a messiah, leaving
blessings in his wake.
and i realize that twelve years of hopelessness have drained me
so i can sit alongside graves to wait
twelve more without regret,
until rotted apples drop unheeded, condescended, from my eyes,
and i pledge to feed five thousand
with my body and my blood.
11/25/2003 Author's Note: Structure suggested by John B.'s fill-in-the-blank posting. The title's edgier than any of the rest of it-- does it take the poem too far?
Posted on 11/26/2003
Copyright © 2024 Mainon A Schwartz
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/29/03 at 03:50 AM this is my favorite of yours, hands down. both jennifer and i said, "OOooo..." and "niiiceee" at the same time. gorgeous, i tip my hat. god, this is glorious. |
| Posted by Rachelle Howe on 11/29/03 at 03:51 AM esplain the whole fill in the blank thing, though... o.O i'm extremely interested. god, i can't quit reading it: its sings, it swears, it crucifies my mind, and god, the punishment would be worth fourty lashes more. |
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