I Bow to You
June 2020 Poetry Selection
I bow to every flower I see and
every flower I remember,
every scent that surprises or lingers
that I can still recall years later...
I bow to every flower I see and
every flower I remember,
every scent that surprises or lingers
that I can still recall years later...
Redeeming Mother
May 2020 Poetry Selection
I cannot forget you, child.
“I ache to nurture you, to feed you;
my breasts fill and must give.”
I cannot forget you, child.
“I ache to nurture you, to feed you;
my breasts fill and must give.”
Passover 5780
Special Poetry Selection
in this plague spring
when the leaders fail us
we try to keep each other
alive we are midwives
of solitude and survival
in this plague spring
when the leaders fail us
we try to keep each other
alive we are midwives
of solitude and survival
Woman in Repose
April 2020 Untold Volumes Selection is an artwork by Dorothea Lee. "What is it like to honor a woman’s body instead of use it as a form or an art object, especially when removing it from context and working with it in collage?"
Ash Wednesday Thirteen Ways
February 2020 Poetry Selection
I have never trusted
a priest with
my whole heart,
not one.
I have never trusted
a priest with
my whole heart,
not one.
Redeliverance
January 2020 Poetry Selection
God, did you have to walk gingerly
after giving birth to me
Had you grown heavy with the weight
of my becoming
God, did you have to walk gingerly
after giving birth to me
Had you grown heavy with the weight
of my becoming
Magnificat
December 2019 Poetry Selection
I sealed my fate with my yes—
soul sanctified, body broken
confluence overflowing
I am the Lord’s servant
I sealed my fate with my yes—
soul sanctified, body broken
confluence overflowing
I am the Lord’s servant
I’m ceded, I’ve stopped being theirs
November 2019 Poetry Selection
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is finished using now...
The name they dropped upon my face
With water, in the country church,
Is finished using now...
Golden Thread
October 2019 Poetry Selection
Maybe I am just a golden thread
on God’s spindle,
tethered from within.
Maybe I am just a golden thread
on God’s spindle,
tethered from within.
Herstory: A Proverbs 31 Woman
September 2019 Poetry Selection
Burning the candle on both ends
she does not dream anymore
except of dishes and stitches so
it seems her work never ends...
Burning the candle on both ends
she does not dream anymore
except of dishes and stitches so
it seems her work never ends...
Behind the Scenes Theodicy: Three Stories of Why It Happened
August 2019 Poetry Selection
I. The angels stood guard like the hollyhocks
In my garden: swaying in the wind, yet
Immobile. A portal had opened, how they knew not...
I. The angels stood guard like the hollyhocks
In my garden: swaying in the wind, yet
Immobile. A portal had opened, how they knew not...
Passed Over
July 2019 Poetry Selection
Why should anyone die a sacrifice
when living blood flows in me
poured out and refreshed each moontide?
Why should anyone die a sacrifice
when living blood flows in me
poured out and refreshed each moontide?
Birding at Lemon Bay
June 2019 Poetry Selection
For weeks, I tried to spy a nesting pair
through a mounted white pipe;
peered at moss-padded sticks lodged
in the crown of a longleaf pine.
For weeks, I tried to spy a nesting pair
through a mounted white pipe;
peered at moss-padded sticks lodged
in the crown of a longleaf pine.
Hemorrhage
May 2019 Poetry Selection
You are electric
waltzing aware of privilege
storing that excess
energy in masculine swagger
You are electric
waltzing aware of privilege
storing that excess
energy in masculine swagger
A Visual Diary
February 2019 Poetry Selection
These grew and became works of art.
Reared and fostered by my own hands.
But these were not my literal children.
These grew and became works of art.
Reared and fostered by my own hands.
But these were not my literal children.
Glenmary Sister
January 2019 Poetry Selection
Fresh out of high school, a novice in a shortened habit
scoured remote hollers, visited coal camps, argued scrip...
Fresh out of high school, a novice in a shortened habit
scoured remote hollers, visited coal camps, argued scrip...
The Pastor Delivers a Box of Groceries on Christmas Eve
Christmas, 2018 Poetry Selection
Hail, darling, full of grace
Half grown, half girl, all of eighteen
That night I made pilgrimage to your trailer
Pale, sweaty, stringy blonde hair
Framing your sapphire eyes.
Hail, darling, full of grace
Half grown, half girl, all of eighteen
That night I made pilgrimage to your trailer
Pale, sweaty, stringy blonde hair
Framing your sapphire eyes.
The Last Stone
December 2018 Poetry Selection
I will not cobble together
a defense of myself
with lines from your holy book.
I will not cobble together
a defense of myself
with lines from your holy book.
Minimized Memoir
October 2018 Poetry Selection
Luke secondhand remembers harshly / Overlooked Martha: upset, anxious, aggressive, / distracted, troubled, bothered, encumbered, / fretting, fussing, busy, missing...
Luke secondhand remembers harshly / Overlooked Martha: upset, anxious, aggressive, / distracted, troubled, bothered, encumbered, / fretting, fussing, busy, missing...
Ancestor Alphabet
September 2018 Poetry Selection
I see the shape of the Alef and the shape of the Lamed / I see the shape of the final Tzadi and the shape of the Hay / I see the shape of your Nose and the shape of your Hands
I see the shape of the Alef and the shape of the Lamed / I see the shape of the final Tzadi and the shape of the Hay / I see the shape of your Nose and the shape of your Hands
Conjuration, Of Poet-Prophets and their Translators
August 2018 Poetry Selection
We are conjure women,
we who traverse portals opened by ancestral song,
we who dream the dreams and speak the tongues
of lands we have never seen.
We are conjure women,
we who traverse portals opened by ancestral song,
we who dream the dreams and speak the tongues
of lands we have never seen.
“Eve’s Summons” and “Maryam’s Labor”
July 2018 Poetry Selection
Maryam is giving birth
Her face is sweaty like a laborer,
like a marathon runner
God is her Doula massaging
the small of her back with a tennis ball
Maryam is giving birth
Her face is sweaty like a laborer,
like a marathon runner
God is her Doula massaging
the small of her back with a tennis ball
If Jesus Were Married
June 2018 Poetry Selection
If Jesus were married
it would help explain why
he valued women higher than his contemporaries
and risked his life to go against church teachings
If Jesus were married
it would help explain why
he valued women higher than his contemporaries
and risked his life to go against church teachings
