Sabbath Brides

By | 15 February 2023

after Bron Bateman

1. Our circadian rhythms–
your texts shadow my fingers
day and night, doorpost and gates.

2. On Saturday mornings
as Miles finishes “Blue in Green”
the cadence of your kisses
chants a prayer of renewal
down my stomach and thighs
and I stand on the crown of my toes
calling kadosh, holy, holy
to the ceiling

3. You tell fables of unhappy desire
populated by beast & sweat,
moon & thicket & blood,
beautiful thunder,
humming light.

In your dreams,
I worked the fields
seven years & seven more
just to see your flesh,
& you gleaned the sheaves
& vowed to follow me home
fierce as death

4. As a baby they called you boy,
hoping & wishing it be so
but you named yourself
queen of my heart,
scrubbing yourself clean
to emerge fresh from the water
like a newborn into the hands of a midwife

5. Our bed is a re-dedicated temple,
a weekly unavowable altar where
I drink your wine & dip your bread in salt
& when you kiss me
& tell me “remember this,”
I laugh & call you kohen gadol,
& this our holy of holies

The sweet bitterness of quenched thirst,
a midrash of longing,
a sabbath table of flesh & feeling
naked, delicious,

A taste of the world to come amen v’amen.

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