Neversend post to my everlasting salvation

Robin Lee Jordan

Dear now-I-lay-me-downs, Dear tight-white shoes, Dear if-I-dies,

I’ve nothing to do with nuns but there they are at the bottom of the stairs. One eclipses the other like the cross itself, giant hands hanging blackly. I never knew they grew this tall.

The nuns are staring at me from the other side of the street; it is night. They linger at the yellowed lip of a light, something stuffed into their fat sleeves.

The consideration of a wave. Below us, warships that won’t sink.

It is dark; they could be lovers. I want to tell them I’ve nothing to do with them. Pull each other by the belts into the shadows, I want to say, become just another black mass remembering some deep ache on the sidewalk beside the dog-torn garbage.

Or are they smoking? And maybe I’m on fire, dying a horrible death; I am a walking flame maybe, and they need to light their cigarettes.

I glance up even though there has never been a moon here. Skirts clenched now around knob-knees they’re clambering up the stairs like schoolyard girls giddy from having gotten away with something that probably doesn’t really matter.

This much is clear: every time I peel open a nun’s gown I’ll see those stolen goods, those fabulous muscles, those awkward-shaped moonless hearts.

Cerro Alegre, Valparaíso, Chile

Robin Lee Jordan

Robin Lee Jordan’s creative nonfiction, fiction, and poetry have been published in various publications, including the Buffalo News, alice blue review, H_NGM_N, Puerto del Sol, and Paper Darts. She received her MFA in poetry from Oregon State University and is the coordinator of Just Buffalo Writing Center, a free, creative writing center for teens. She also runs the community art project (B)uffalo (A)rt (D)ispensary, a coin-operated, mini-art exchange that repurposes toy vending machines.


Poem: Dear now-I-lay-me-downs, Dear tight-white shoes, Dear if-I-dies…

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