The Penitent Magdalen
The jewels have fallen at her feet. Torn tassels, a pendant once dear, now collecting dust by the hem of her robe. Hands folded placidly resting upon the skull in her lap. And she gazes somewhere above the mirror, in which her ghostly pale face does not show. What could have gone wrong? What grievous sin might have caused the pearls to unravel from her neck, and collect like rainwater on the stone table? Her hair and hands, now sleek wood. Perhaps she was whittled that way from the start. Lips parted in soft silent agonies, she turns her face discreetly from me. Oh to put her out of her misery. The candle burns tall and harsh. She has given herself to God, but can no longer see her own face. Perhaps she holds the skull to reminds herself of mortality; perhaps she holds it in longing for it.
Rooney Kim is a rising freshman at Wesleyan University. Her work appears on Rising Phoenix Review and has been recognized by City College. When she isn't writing poetry, she is most likely making (very) slow progress on her novel. She also has an unnatural obsession with all things related to 19th century art. She currently lives in New York City.
The Ekphrastic Review
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