A worthless person, a wicked man…calamity will come upon him suddenly; in a moment he will be broken beyond healing. —Proverbs 6
Let him rain coals on the wicked; fire and sulfur and a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup. —Psalm 11:6
The women—I want to say
women, but really they
were girls—are reduced
to blocks of ink. Bare bodies
barred, black-lined. Barcodes:
products priced for purchase.
When he discards them,
tender pleas follow—
money, a reference, a job.
His reply smolders on the page:
send nudes
I picture him eating, wiping his filthy
mouth as he types back:
not sexy enough
He smirks. Lifts his cup to crooked
lips, white napkin draping his knees.
Scripture speaks of another cup:
fire and sulfur, a scorching wind—
a breaking
beyond healing.
Ink can redact
a name, a face.
It cannot erase
what was done.
You can listen to a conversation about this poem on the Reformed Journal Podcast.
9 Responses
“It cannot erase
what was done.”
Thank you. This is heartbreakingly beautiful.
Appreciate your kind words.
Thank you for this.
So powerful, Sara. The spare lines and imagery make the awful truth more stark and the cover up more reprehensible. Thank you for this.
Thank you for reading, Mark.
It all makes my stomach clench. Thank you for naming the truth.
Thank you, Sara. The impact of the evil in your understated poem hits the reader with more power than the reports we have read in the media.
I am so glad it spoke to you!
I’m so glad it spoke to you!