Dear Anne,

September 1, 2013

Tonight I went with Sarah to Mass. How was it, that twelve rows in front of us two men sat clasping hands? One like me, wearing a black yarmulke stark against bone white hair, his shirt the color of tropical water. While the preacher lamented the lack of faces in the front row, I watched ions bounce between the two men’s shoulders. I wanted to tell Sarah, This is something holy. What do you pray for? Sometimes I think there are stairwells inside her I will never know. We sat there dressed in all blue, her veins a shade I can’t unfold. Can poetry? The other Jew and I the only bodies between the pews as the ones who brought us left for the altar, readying their mouths to catch light.

*

Jacob Victorine is a performance poet and MFA graduate of Columbia College Chicago. Nominated for a 2013 Pushcart Prize, his poems appear in places such as DIALOGIST, Columbia Poetry Review, Phantom Limb, PANK and Muzzle Magazine, for which he also writes book reviews. He is an editorial assistant for Court Green.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s