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An Offering
Words By Martha McCollough, Art By Odilon Redon
I had a strategy—
God’s always more pleased with a prodigal.
Skin your knee & the nun says offer it up, think
of St. Lucy her eyes rolling on a plate or was it
her breasts—breasts might be Agatha—anyway
it’s sick how she moons
over Sebastian
fainting & full of arrows—
with the black crayon
I give the boy in my book
long curling hair
I add some arrows
pile sticks at his feet
a billow of smoke
he is more attractive this way.
Martyrs get a pass—
sin hard right up to the last minute
spent repenting
but the teacher is not convinced
there will be reconciliation in my case
Puberty comes along
One gets distracted
I draw a lady—
her breasts are
bigger than Agatha’s—
fishnet stockings, pirate rags
stiletto boots
trying for slutty
get sent to principal
My body is a temple or else
it’s what my mind is riding
a bad animal
bit in its teeth
not looking just running
when I hold on hard it thinks I mean
go faster and it does
God, I hurt my knee; here
do you want to lick it or what?