Elegy to the Pencil That Drew Veronica In By Marlowe Ryan
Look at you, my cave companion Look at you still admiring your work, scribbles in the margins of the Bible, writing a saint in, scoundrel then the only pages I’m not allowed to rip out for firewood The cloth was school property The charm, horrifyingly my own They asked me to witness Mary twice Be a monarch, silly girl. Marry the priest. You knew when you saw your friend, the scissors stab me in their effort to shape me into a good Catholic girl, cutting and pasting Jesus onto an ornate dishrag Was it worth it? Now you’re covered in teeth marks, blasphemy Just had to have a legacy, could they even trace your lead Can they even distinguish my skin on his fingerprints or has he washed them in the wine, something Holy down their throats Jesus must have had cabin fever too He must have spent those days wondering what Veronica would do with His image on her veil would she wear it in idolatry, the first horror movie maybe that’s what you saw in me I’m the demon the kids draw in art class 276
