Beatification, Canonization

            Name us impossible. If
                        dead is prerequisite.
If woman is
                        things to bury
in the neighbor’s lawn—
                                    stained fingernails,
glass, a bag of flour.
            Peel away these stems,
                                                these leaves
& we’re closer. If girl is the dirt.
            This skin &
                        we’re already there.
            We press our hands in jam-jars
of litany,
                        wait for it to bleed
            & it’s:
                                    jam on fingers,
teeth, knees,
                        sweet, at least,
& we taste it—

Isabel Prioleau lives in Charleston, South Carolina. She interns for The Adroit Journal, and you can find her most recent work in The Post and Courier. Isabel was an attendee of the 2018 Juniper Institute for Young Writers and the 2019 Iowa Young Writers’ Studio, and is a member of the Adroit Journal Summer Mentorship Program’s 2020 cohort.

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