I clasp my hands and bow my head for You, but
I doubt You are appreciative of this act. On the
movie my mother is watching
a noose hugs Rebecca Nurse’s throat,
the trap drops, and in the rope’s hiss
I hear the song You sing when we finally die.
When a priest breaks the Eucharist, I
think how easily he tears it apart,
then turn to my brother and ask
what would he do if he saw real blood?
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 17, Issue 1.
Anthony Sutton received his B.A. from the University of Houston where he won the Gulf Coast Fellowship in Undergraduate Creative Writing and, with Glass Mountain, the AWP National Program Directors’ Prize. He has received fellowships from Gemini Ink and The Poetry At Round Top Festival. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Nothing. No One. Nowhere., Identity Theory, The Aletheia, and elsewhere.
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