Stain

By Gabrielle Brant

— on The Crucifixion of St. Julia by Hieronymus Bosch

How many crushed female bodies does it take
to dye a red dress red, a red dress drap
edon a girl raised into a blue blue sky,

erected by her father against a sky blue
as the blessed virgin, her mantle softly falling?
How many crushed female bodies does it take

to create the correct carmine stain for the soft folds
of a girl’s final dress, her underskirt tied
about her ankles with rope, her slim ankles hidden,

her chaste feet hidden, but not her pale pale hands,
her palms exposed and facing out? How many crushed
female bodies does it take to wrap an unwilling girl

in cochineal, strap her wrists to a rough cross,
hoist her body up, drive the spikes clean through?
A crowd gathers at the crucifixion.

See, someone has fainted. See, two slave traders
deliberate. How many crushed female bodies fall
to their knees, beg their gods for deliverance,

for anything to keep men’s eyes from measuring
from coveting from beating breaking bruising
their beardless bodies? See? The ship sailing off the panel

is burning.

—

About Gabrielle Brant Freeman

Freeman's poetry has been published in many journals, including Barrelhouse, Mom Egg Review, The Rumpus, One, Scoundrel Time, storySouth, and Waxwing. She was nominated for a Pushcart in 2017, and she was a Best of the Net 2014 finalist. Gabrielle won the 2015 Randall Jarrell Poetry Competition. Press 53 published her book, When She Was Bad, in 2016. Read her poems and more at http://gabriellebrantfreeman.squarespace.com/.