SARA MURPHY
UNTITLED
Crippled with thirst I padded
to the tepid bathroom with the tiny bottles
of mouthwash soap and shampoo
turned the tap
drank deeply
and caught a glimpse
of tangled hair and smeared eyes
lips that had bruised and burned beneath another mouth
but I did not see myself
not the eyes
lips or hair
and so I winked
at the pale girl and returned
to the high bed with too many pillows and to
the man now dozing in it
not yet tired
much too tired
to go to sleep
and I tried to pray again
to the arbitrary God playing poker with
our lives cruelly bartering
our eyesight
our balance
and our —
to the grinning Cheshire God
shooting blanks into our brains (are they blanks at all)
could they really be a way
of testing
the strong and
trapping the weak
to the God who we give all
the properties of maleness of creator and
father and of course savior
(the moon gives
more light and
prayer does not come)
to the he who left me cold
I wanted to scream the questions my lips part the
tongue moves but he has robbed me
of vision
(the voice to
ask anything)
I ached to howl long and wild
to pace like a great wild cat in a gilt cave
now an arm snaked around me
I gave in
and gave up
on great desires