Noli me Tangere

Eidolon instransigent at dawn:
a girl producing ointment
it's true—your hands are larger
than my life; she's genuflective, only
tractable to the bloom of doves.
To contemplate the resurrected stride
unenveloped, thrusting, distinction
awaiting a new dispersal:
such intervals decree a loosening
of blooded society, ripped
through gasp of stark heart
to relinquishing; no tight grind
so still to fall. Forestlight, cellular
the fresco feel of compassion,
scythed or sceptred, sacramental
momenting of blaze, volition
collides with drench of voice
—I'm triggered by that word rejoice
like the moon, sylphing, swelling
into reflective choice.

Sarah Law | Mudlark No. 14
Contents | La Madonna del Magnificat (particolare)