Ecstatic. Nobody in real white. No body, and yet,
body, like a housefire.
The smell of burning soap and peaches
in the trashcan where the whole thing started.
A waiting that keeps all things new.
I am waiting for all things made new-
a place like a planet we cannot know.
I love it sometimes, mostly,
I am afraid of this sweet expanse and the voice of God
all resurrection and eternal language.
Tenderness, spoken in a desert.
The few times we receive God,
slippery in us, undoing all doubt,
I remember I will never be alone.
Watching a murder show about girls running
from men with knives, I remember:
I will never be alone.
Looking at lilac and seeing the face, at least
the hand, of God, once. I prayed until I was a ruin.
I loved that ruin, I became. Ecstatic.
Break, Blow, Burn by Alisha Dietzman | Pink Peony Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
$15.00Price
Alisha Dietzman is the author of Sweet Movie (Beacon Press, 2023), winner of the National Poetry Series. Her creative and critical work has received support from the Rebecca Swift Foundation, the Jeffrey Rubinoff Sculpture Park, the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the US-UK Fulbright Commission.
