Creazione di Eva

Sacerdotal plunge into the flesh
splitting sides, in childhood bypass
freshnesses that can't be said
to be family, dysfunctional as
the natal organics of life
as he thought he knew it (walked
in the gardener's arm, waltzed out
as if from an arc, by two).
Satinate the stretch of skin
seeking gold of fallen robe
from gallant surgery. Her head
born like Venus from a shell of ribs
a foaming solo masterpiece of faith
as if you couldn't suffer enough
through a summons. Take part
of a plumed bird, gun-shot,
an unringed finger leaving out
no sullen multimediatrix
layering time, through foliage,
beckoning, a quizzical olive branch.

Sarah Law | Mudlark No. 14
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