At Bible study, you read about Thomas. The other kids snickered at his unbelief. You thought of his worker hand, gliding into a wound, like a knife into fish. What did it touch after? Did he wipe it on his tunic, God blood on old rags? Did the smear come out in the wash?
The image lost its resonance over the years. Your own gash allows neither entry nor egress. You don’t think a body can come back after it becomes wended into wood.
Sometimes you find small rocks. You like the ones with holes. You put your whole hands in geodes, careful not to chip your nails, which are bitten to death anyways. The rock reminds you your doubt, too, is a way to a gory miracle.
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Nadia Arioli (née Wolnisty) is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of Thimble Literary Magazine. Their work has appeared or is forthcoming in Spry, SWWIM, Apogee, Penn Review, McNeese Review, Kissing Dynamite, Bateau, Heavy Feather Review, Lime Hawk Review, Poetry South, and others. They have a full-length collection from Luchador and chapbooks from Cringe-Worthy Poetry Collective, Dancing Girl Press, and Spartan.