Menu

Poetry

The knife was held like night—
quiet in her husband’s hand.

In silence, the umbilicus was snipped.
The moon went on shining.

A mare leapt astride a stallion.
Jerusalem was drowning.

A match dropped.
Hay fired.

Kings slunk away.
The world hung heavy

on her breast.
—Love’s foundling.

A curtain twitched:
unholy neighbors.

A nosey Roman poked
his head in the manger.

Night clambered on
atop another day.

For warmth, the shepherds
lit dried dung.

Close by, a spark or two
of life’s unknown,

fell to a weirding fire.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

The Icon

By

Jennifer Grotz

the fuzzy and blurry insides of a living room, featuring a warm wood bookshelf filled in the upper shelves with books, a floor lamp, the top of a chair, and a wall with one large framed photo and three smaller framed photos.

Fall

By

Lia Purpura

Elysium

By

Bruce Bond

His Purgations  

By

Thomas Lynch

Pin It on Pinterest