SPOKEN WORD

Photo from Unsplash

Photo from Unsplash

Unless you place your fingers
in the wound of my language
you will not believe
– 

I’m tracing, lightly at first, then
palpating the bruised words
until I come to the split,

its raw warmth, the slip
of bloody cuts and slashes – 
I could never hurt you, so

I murmur old litanies 
learned long ago, and wonder
whether I should kiss

the cicatrice confessions,
hoping my breath dissolves 
their verbal pins and stitches, 

seeking to pledge myself
to the ineffable – when all the time 
your body is a risen utterance 

of susurrated glory.

Sarah Law

Sarah Law lives in London and is an Associate Lecturer for the Open University. She has poems in The Windhover, St Katherine Review, America, Psaltery & Lyre, Soul-Lit, Heart of Flesh and elsewhere. Her latest collection, Thérèse: Poems is published by Paraclete Press. She edits Amethyst Review, an online journal for new writing engaging with the sacred.

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JANE AUSTEN, COMMUNITY, AND THE CHURCH

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SANCTUS AT ALL SAINTS