Sometimes the Bible repeats
Itself. Abraham like God and
Isaac like Jesus. Abraham knife
in hand, sobbing but ready.
Sometimes we add to it. Fish
spreading like wildfire in the sea,
on loaves of bread. Teresa
with the little baby heads floating
around her in my book of saints.
Cecilia at the piano, even the same
in death. Gorgeous with blush
just run from her cheeks. Mary’s heart
b u r s t s into gold
on my faded green statue. What
to do with these images as little
children. Marvel at their mystery,
the magic: necessity is the mother
of invention, they say.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Jennie Malboeuf is a native of Kentucky. Her work has been published in the Southeast Review, Mid-American Review, Mississippi Review, and Columbia Poetry Review, has been recognized by the Iowa Review, Gulf Coast, and Arts & Letters, and recently won a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Award. She lives in North Carolina and teaches writing at Guilford College.