← v15n1, Spring 2016
Poetry · Volume 15, Number 1

Annunciation, 1960

By the bare altar

the minister pinned paper wings to my shoulders,

scolded me for forgetting my halo.

Light glazed the sweat

on his forehead. I hid behind a curtain,

sniffed the lily in my fist.

Aching for the Virgin

to end her song, I mouthed:

“Blessed art thou who art favored with the Son of God. . . .”

Under the cardboard dove

I knelt, hoping for a miracle

to write the angel’s lines on my hand.

All I heard was blood

throbbing in my ears, the Virgin’s gown

rustling toward the curtain,

shoes scuffing the church floor.

On the stage crisscrossed by shadows,

I waited with my crushed lily, my gift of silence.