Skip to content
Menu

Poetry

So Abraham went and took the ram and offered 
it up as a burnt offering in place of his son. 

                                                  —Genesis 22:13 

 

I was born out of terror, 
           horn-caught and tangled, 

                           pulled from the brush
with a cry of thorn and leaf. 

I would have given my coat,
              in another life. In another life, 

I would have mounted a mate, 
                            our dirt-warm rut and clover 

desirings, to sow new bodies 
               larking across the fields.   

                             Instead, there was branch
and scratch, a figure dragging me  

from the thicket-dark, my cheek 
                            held to stone, and after that,  

             a clearing in the pale, deep
meadow of my throat.

 

 


Jehanne Dubrow is the author of seven poetry collections, most recently American Samizdat (Diode), and a book of nonfiction, throughsmoke (New Rivers). She is professor of creative writing at the University of North Texas.

 

 


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

If you like Image, you’ll love ImageUpdate.

Subscribe to our free newsletter here:


Pin It on Pinterest