Mark DeCarteret
from FEASTS
st walburga
you hacked up something
blacker than a witch’s cat:
patted past static
st matilda
w/your husband dead
you’d wed a polygamist
many states away
st louise de marillac
all of us, orphans
born from both dust & from thorn
& their phantom-bed
st heribert
whether rain or drought:
what end’s had them refrain from
having you send dough?
st basilissa
not once does her tongue
test out the tang of his skin:
lily-tinged julian
st agatho
he finds these numbers,
this infallibility,
always favors him
