new eve
Sweat this wild derangement from me like a fever
Please, take from me that which I would never give
Cut here
Swiftly, where deep circles of eyes meet bruised cheeks
Carve into me like a tablet
I will be your vessel and carry your commandments
Banish this sickness which crawls from me
Exsanguinate my sin, pull it from me like a leech
I am but the sum of my parts and your faults
Find them all, bring them into your light
Absolve me from that wickedness
So I might again be clean and empty
With nothing but the seeds of my hate
And the fruit of your violence
And still, as I bear your marks, I receive
My blessings with grace––
Not that you would grant unto me eternal rest––no, my part is
To be broken, crucified solely
Upon St. Stephens’ cross
Scarred as the feet and palms of the son
Yet I will hold my heart in my hands like my mother
Offering it up, sweet dark libations,
As you are twisting this face––
It was mine! This, the face of my father’s mother, and of hers
O! Baptize me! Until I am clean!
Until my fingers wrinkle in that great flood!
Happily, there is no pair for me
And Noah’s water makes for a clean home
O forgive me my trespasses
Allow me your hands for my rosary
Stain the column of my neck with hard fingertips
Who needs breath when there is you!
I wake in fits, here in this confessional
No doily shafts of light to lead me pure
Tax my ribs in tithe
Take them––and I will shout your name aloud
With such reverence
That the walls here will be consecrated
Made pure, washed holy, flayed,
Sanctified
With the bright flame of my hurt
What fresh devotion is this?
Stemming, not from the abundance of pain,
But all the kindness of it
Now the seeking of peace
Is surely a kind of false god to you
I will add idolatry to my sins
And repent; before we are
Back to the garden,
O! With crown of thorns––
Surely it is madness? To crave
Forgiveness, absolution!
To pray, with all my reverence,
As I fall from purgatory,
For your everlasting joy
I will be new again if it kills me:
Yes, I will be new again if it kills me!
And if I am drowned in that Jordan
I will die with a smile!
So that I could be new, I would scrub, raw,
Into this skin that once knew violence
And I would gift it the bliss of amnesia
Soft and fleeting as the moment between sleeping and waking
Baptise me anew
Wash the dirt and the sin from me,
From the cracks in this holy façade,
Sundays are ruined now, and I with them
Lead me to the altar and be merciful
There is little more I can give
Find that votive light in me! and snuff it!
Father, son, break my spirit
Take from me so I can be less than I am
Forgive me, for I know not what I do.
Bless me with a quiet soul
and a forgetfulness of what I have done
Let me become all that you would make me
Some New Eve.
This piece was included in our inaugural print issue, Taboo. To explore this edition of MEUF Magazine, please visit the issues page.