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Sarah Sarai

St. Sarah Sarai Carrying the Infant Christ Child

Creeping, is what a saffron sun is doing,

creeping out from a past it will soon revisit.


I hike my blood-red tunic to my thighs

with one hand while the other, well,

in my arms, well, always a child,

always delivered to us in indrawn-

infant stillness, as if creation

holds its breath because, really,

all this is over so much too soon.


Isnít making art remembering

what we knew? Why not, then, salvation?


The water over rocks cold on graniteó

quartz and orthoclaseóand slick moss.

Iím the last person who should be entrusted

to carry Him, me of the angry sinner school.


And I would forswear sainthood and irony,

I would, for this one, held against my heart.


In response to:

Saint Christopher and the Infant Christ, Follower of Dieric Bouts (Netherlandish, ca. 1480).


Sarah Sarai's likes to stare at art. She has poems in The Minnesota Review, The Threepenny Review, PANK,, The Columbia Review, Main Street Rag and others; and fiction in journals including Weber Studies, South Dakota Review and Visit her at

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