Megan Pinto
The Devil’s Clothes
My mother is sick. She combs her hair and pulls
out clumps dumping them in the sink. She is sad because she wants
to be beautiful and she is getting old. God said the Devil
would wear ordinary clothes. My mother collects her hair
in a Ziploc bag. She knows that beauty is goodness and goodness
is God, so she pours a vial of water from the Dead Sea over
her head. The air above her: full of little, smoldering stars
the dusty black ash of them dirtying the lungs, the stubborn
fat tumor pressed against the skull. We pray
in many ways, but we ache in just one.
Ave Maria
In the manger, Jesus pressed a cold
ear against the hay. Then Mary held
him to her chest: the loneliness
of a chewed nipple hardening
to cold air, her one
exposed breast.
Megan Pinto's poems can be found or are forthcoming in Ploughshares, Meridian, Indiana Review, and The Cortland Review among others. She has received scholarships from Bread Loaf and the Port Townsend Writer's Conference, and an Amy Award from Poets & Writers. She holds an MFA in Poetry from Warren Wilson.
Malasaña | Hudson, NY| Cargo Collective | Portland, ME | 2021