berlin lit

Sarah Law

 

To Translate

 

The body is a metaphor for God – 

your limbs are fourfold gospels with a raised

 

hand aligning your soft-pumped blood

to text: echocardiography,

 

leaving its witness as pattern and prayer.

The heart itself is sanctuary lamp,

 

red and steady even as it flickers

over your shimmering stanzas of flesh.

 

The body holds its wounds and folds,

is skin striated by a turning world.

 

That thoughtful look is iconography – 

your phrase-mark frown eliding note

 

with note; your mouth is utterance 

and hunger for an answer. Touch

 

is grace-note, blessed selection, patter

of water. Every cup and curve is love,

 

a vessel fit for wonder; and is good.