Published on April 15th, 2013 | by Rachel Ervin0
“Sand” & “Notes on a Brooklyn Crucifixion” by Rachel Ervin
In the summer sanctuary of my youth,
our freckled faces and rippled wrists;
our brown-skinned backs and makeshift suits
staggered around the aggregate pool.
The steam of a Sunday dip drenching our towels was baptism;
the tin-can laughter of uncles and beer was our verse.
Summer desert days, like a spigot stuck open.
Furniture-fueled bonfires running into mariachi, running
into midnight dancing, running into
passed out children around the pool.
Those steamy days meant water
when the rest of our year meant thirst;
when we spilled sand from every crevice
and our chapel returned to dust.
Notes on a Brooklyn Crucifixion
The look on her face says,
I am not willing.
A palm upraised, with blood:
Queen of the Jews.
The city birds sit, sentient,
in praise of smog and light
and smokestacks black.
Each cover requires sacrifice. And so
the wife, like a pink robe,
awaits her bridegroom;
An answer in silence.