After Decorative Initial ‘E’ c.1100 from St. Augustine’s City of God
On her parchment bed, she lies naked on inked
sheets of blue and green so that earth and sky
meet at an angled horizon
right underneath her hips—as if
the monk who drew her knew something about dual
nature, the sacred and profane.
She is on her back, rotated ninety degrees
counter-clockwise. Her breasts and upper arms
form the upright stem of an E. Bent elbows
force her forearms to become top and bottom cross-
bars. The middle crossbar: her torso and legs, knees
pulled up to chest level, spread and ready to receive a man,
or maybe the Holy Ghost.
Her head, superfluous, hangs over aquamarine—
a pigment made from crushed stone.
Go ahead, she could be saying. It’s time.
Let’s learn the consequences of our fall. Or else,
Here I am, Mother of All.
–
Angela Bilger, originally from Jacksonville, Florida, is a classical musician living in the Philadelphia area with her husband and son. Her work has been published in Rust+Moth, the minnesota review, Letters Journal, Raleigh Review, The Christian Century, and Dappled Things.