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Patmos Lyric #4
Anne Babson (bio)
I am writing this naked, crouching above stick in
The mud, my flesh-sweat stinking of fish I netted
In the shallows. I am waiting for Revelation—
When Christ crouched in the dust and wrote in the sand near
The captured adulteress, He waited like this
For words to transform the dirt into a solid
Epistle. The woman wept. The men with the rocks
Shifted weight impatiently, copper and salt of
Blood on their tongues. But the earth clods understood
Waiting for language was a virgin pregnancy.
The surface seems inert, dire, even, but when scratched
Just so, water and land get rightly divided.
The Creator proclaims in Aleph, Bet, “Light be,”
And behold, there is light. The rocks from clenched fists drop.
Woman loses her accusers. The ground upholds
Her bare feet running away.

 

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