~ Delta Poetry Review ~

Mel Connelly

St. Sebastian

Curvilinear bow, arched back,

elongated woman, unnatural.

The saint, across from her, has suffered,

settled his own features with each arrow,

as to say, “If I was wrong, you’d see it on my face.”

The evidence being that, like you and me, he bleeds,

and like you and me, he dies for nothing if not for beauty,

and that’s a relief. As with panel paintings which

have a perpetual glory, the grain beneath is barely visible,

but you know the wood was alive once before.

Is it not my duty to pray to God, breathe life

into Sebastian’s empty net of a body, even though my ventriloquy

is proven to be useless? Is it not enough to acknowledge

that the tear of each blow, effortless, is proleptic,

like, “I saw this coming,” like, “I could get used to this”?

Like, there’s a thousand and one renditions,

and, like, this ain’t the end of it?

Mel Connelly is a lesbian-feminist poet who hails from West Georgia. Earning her master’s in art history at Georgia State University and an MFA in poetry writing, she has worked with various art galleries and feminist archives, which have inspired her poetry. At the moment, she lives in France, where she studies rare books and manuscripts. Her poetry has appeared in Screen Porch Review, Sinister Wisdom, and more.