“Absolution Among the Hail and Blackberries” by Christine Nichols

I am open, in the field.
I offer the hail my belly,
a thinly lidded eye, a curve
of arched neck.

In the air, the trill
of a lark’s song, its voice—
a fountain, bubbles in darkness.
I wait for the sin.  It’s coming.

I invited here a beast of wreckage,
this scythe of wind,
this belt of kindling.

I give instead my blood—
dark purple, blackberry wine,
a knife-blade of sugar.

The night air burns.
Over my wound, he pours
bottled sunlight.

He forgives me
with a lash of
feathered tongue.

I am reborn: A forest
of candlesticks,
a pillar for the moon.

Christine Nichols is from Stillwater, Oklahoma.

She has work pending or previously published in NEO’s Portmanteau, Intima, A Journal of Narrative Medicine, Muddy River Poetry Review, Red River Review, Vox Poetica, and Strong Verse.

Sydney Vance
Sydney Vance

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