which is to say
not an allegory. An opportunity
for displacement. Faith
steps into the footprint of a mountain,
garbs itself in miniature birds.
A debtor forgives a sheep
for disguising itself as a son.
Coins fall beside stalks
of wheat and burn away thorns.
Replace one part with another
to discover wine in your father’s urn.
Neither grief nor drunkenness
pleases the guests, but inside a fig,
a wasp becomes a pearl.
Allison Bird Treacy is a poet and literary critic whose writing grapples with disabled embodiment and history. Her work has appeared in Cider Press Review, Pilgrimage, Room, and others. She lives with her wife and too many cats in Boston.
