Aunt Jane Permuted

 

for Alden Nowlan

 

(Worship at my body,
every in.
Take its dreamed corpse—
prayers of night,
wake it.)
A decade,
ninety,
a hundred:
we ate porridge,
kept to nights.
Upstairs, said
“Pray, lord,
where should I die?”
(They
hid before
the dead lord

and before me.)

If I slept,
I went with the buried.
Jane was dead,
and I, the aunt
at whom Christ thundered,
I took her
(it)
to bed.

 

 

***

 

Meagan Black is the youngest of six children. She is currently pursuing an English honours degree with a concentration in creative writing and is Editorial Assistant for Arc Poetry Magazine. Black won the 2012 Lillian I. Found Award for lyric poetry.

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