Agape Feast

Abstract

Agape Feast Jennifer Militello (bio) What is love but the bruise or the abrasion,the fruitlessness, the deep incision. Whatis love if it isn't on stage or placedbetween two sonnets' turns. What is lovenerving down the spine. Just now I thoughtI felt it stir, or heard it, like the wall'ssmall nest of baby mice. Like chemicalsset to preserve imported furs. Its complaintgot in, rain astringent at its end.Fat as a blackberry, thin as a stick,stationed overseas at the vein-itchor artery-strap. Bubble, flutter of pain.An emptiness pinned to its lapel.It is an aftermath at best. Shhh iswhat it says. Dear, diagram yourself.Its pigeons shuttle like the imbalanceof a hat. Pores seen. Lips curled.It is not the documents correct. Stampsare streaked away with bleach. Bagsare searched. The fingers of governmentworkers blue with ink. Its ribsgrate like gnashed teeth. It sings likethe polished floors of a bank. It readsall the lines in your palm as the equivalentof death. Carrier of diseases and lice,wool blanket stink. Fire beneath the bridge.Its past is a chasm. Its past is a lid. Let itcatch at the latch of your throat and body bagyour want and infinity your need. Its Jesusis the noose at your neck. Its Jesus isthe blue slits veins seem at your wrist.Its mercy is electric, it is storied, it is rank.Its mercy is a tablet dissolved in a glass,more invisible the more you drink. [End Page 131] Jennifer Militello Jennifer Militello is the author, most recently, of A Camouflage of Specimens and Garments (Tupelo Press, 2016) and Body Thesaurus (Tupelo Press, 2013). Her poems have been published in Best New Poets, American Poetry Review, Kenyon Review, New Republic, Paris Review, and Ploughshares. She teaches in the MFA program at New England College. Copyright © 2017 Middlebury College Publications