Food Poisoning

Food Poisoning

 

Flat on the bathroom floor at 2 a.m.--
eyes open, and the porcelain font
loomed above me like a ghastly chalice.
Eyes closed, I had visions of Saint Anthony
torn by demons in a tile-lined cave.

Thirty pieces of silver for that salad,
that unholy host, then wretched and retching--
betrayed by my whole body, my mind
seething in a sour martyrdom.

No recollection of a state before
this suffering, and no faith that grace
might save me, I ached to understand my sin,
to know what had left me so forsaken.

But once the daylight shivered across the sill,
there was only one revelation I took
from that floor: if the Bridegroom had come
for me that night, I would have gladly taken
his hand, and placed it against my fevered cheek.

 

header image: Emma Cleverly / flickr

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Erie

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Mondegreen

Mondegreen