If you wonder why Zanobi leans me right
to kiss Christ’s wounded feet in counterpoise
to Mary and against the lines of sight,
it’s that I didn’t leave him any choice.
Those were the feet I had anointed once,
washed them with tears and dried them with my hair.
Unveiled among the veiled so to announce
that I’m different from the other women there.
All signs and symbols of extravagance,
the outward flowing of an inward grace,
I could not know that by God’s Providence
in three days’ time I wouldn’t know his face.
I’m here to stand with everyone who joins
this company all crowned with golden coins.
Donald Carlson lives in Texas. His poems have appeared in Better Than Starbucks, Blue Unicorn, The Road Not Taken, and more. His collaborative volume of poetry, with Timothy Donohue and Dennis Patrick Slattery, is Road Frame Window, published by Mandorla Press.
The Ekphrastic Review
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