Our Lady of the Ruins

We exhausted ourselves

            with every available pleasure,

tied ourselves to chairs,

                        naked and disobedient. Their bodies dusted

                                                                                     with the sex of flowers

Inside our bodies, it was night.

                        God knew what we asked for it is the bees that call me

            but would not return our shame.

                                                                                    from the bottom

One day the walls wept your image. of the lake

            When we painted over it,

                        your face bled through,

appeared to us in the image of our mother, No one remembers me

                        but penitent, adoring. not even the rain

You should know we are guilty.

                        We raised more demons Once, before I was named

than we could lay down. I lived as a woman

                        So what if we’re haunted.

            So what if we’ve stopped dreaming.

                                                                                    Nothing followed me

We are sensitive to the tides

                        and the lighthouse burning

for ships that never arrive. I could name every plant

The rumors are true. Delirium found us. knew the weather

                                                                                    before it announced itself

We oiled and kissed a stranger’s burnt feet.

                        We held pigeons under water

            until their gnarled hearts stopped My hands picked peaches

                        fluttering in our hands. kneaded dough

                                                                                    dug in fresh black earth

            When we unwound their intestines

                        looking for the message,

we found blood hollow bones. Now they push mushrooms

                                                                                    through the loam

Don’t tell us we’re too late. beneath a fox’s skull

                        We swear we’re not saved.

                                                                                    Now they lead ants

We are ravished and unclean. to the dead mouse

We left blood in the bowl for you

            and the tips of our fingers. I was vanishing

                                                                                    but now I return

We forsake the eastern star.

            Take us by the hair. In a dress sewn

                        Lead us past from my shroud

the ignorant light,

            past a God who threatens I will meet you

to love all that we are. where the cross burns