Stigmata

By: Caitlin Hennessy
September 9, 2008

Within the contemplative gaze of the sun,
Beneath the shadow of his assumptive grin,
I behold… stigmata,
Lacerated, I wear gaping gashes, like mouths,
Rejecting the gratuitous wine of Bacchus.
In an abreal haze, I tread through burning sand
Leaving behind me a trail of crimson,
Blood within and upon my bare form, clothing me
In red ivy, analogous to a mutilated Eve.
At the water’s edge, I bend to
Take in my reflection.