May 2013 - Comments Off

At the Foot of the Bed

Esme Franklin '13

My mother who art in bed
lifts her goosey comforter:
an invitation.

Our father who art in Heaven
calls a woman to prayer

and so called,
she does not
Lead me from temptation

but fingers the edge
of mother’s down.

Father forgive
her eyes. They assume
deference to the floor.

Our mother who art
raises her gaze

to the woman in white,
Give us
our mother’s figure

impressed on goose down.
Hallowed be thy bed

Published by: in Poetry, Volume 69, Volume 69: Issue 2

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