Two Sticks
by Michelle Gibson

    She believed the word of the lord
    as spoken by the prophet. Elijah,
    I am gathering two sticks.
    The last of what she had. All sons
    dipped seven times. The river Jordan.
    Survival is less certainty than fact.
    The splitting of hair.

    For God so loved the world that children
    are offered like sugar. Find them curled,
    soft backs to air. The roots of oak.
    Unafraid as any lambs, their blood the signs of crosses
    on doors. Bless them for their mothers' sakes.
    The turns of belts, the cinching
    of wrists. All sin is the spared rod.






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