Judith and Her Maidservant
I’m scared that my hair is falling out
because I’m a gossip; scared hissing
follicles loose with loose cruel lips;
I believe in punishment as much as
forgiveness; I believe bound fingers
form blades; Artemisia paints Lucretia
with the dagger pointed up and away;
I see myself gripping liquored stringy
hair; pulling it out of shower drains;
taut enough to stretch tendons or fabric
over wood; I want to help hold the body
down to the white bed while it thrashes
so a true heroine can lop off its bearded
head; I’ll be the one to hold the shivering
severed but still-alive dome of memento
in my lap and stroke its sinking cavities
to mori soothing I’m with you; as freshly
mixed pigment soaks and drags my skirt
to the dirt; like the first time I was seduced
by death-throes or my insides left home;
not so much with a love of the macabre
as with desire for chiaroscuro; a muscled
hope and certainty of the sacred mission;
I hold the draw-string bag open for when
the dread fountain stops gurgling gladiolus
red gore, and her sword work is finally done.
VIRGINIA LAURIE is a visual artist, poet, and educator. She earned her MFA in Creative Writing from University of North Carolina Wilmington. You can read more of her work at https://virginialaurie.com or follow her on Instagram @virginialaurie.
