A Simple Young Woman Who Married a Carpenter

There’s the mother stunned and bleeding
The men talk above her

She knew what to do
babies were ordinary

though the proceeding
could be dangerous.

Not reliably a child until
he showed a tendency to live

The shepherds are excited, credulous.
They’re night men, the hired help,

there to deliver the news of their news
and trek back to work.

Not all of them came.
Someone had to keep watch,

and a child, after all—
not much more than a lamb

 

____________________________________________


Job Verses 38–40

 

Thomas Berry says, to save the planet
There must be a mystique of the rain

and making it is
the job of the poet.

But when God asked Job
Who can stay the bottles of heaven?

Job decided he had said too much
and stopped the conversation.

Now the heavenly bottles crack.
How to make this mystique,
revere what we wound?
Mystique for mistook?

Slicked creatures
gasp along the beaches.
We have drawn out the leviathan with a hook.
Now, Will he speak soft words?

Elizabeth Poreba is a retired New York City high-school English teacher. She has published two collections of poems, Vexed and Self Help: A Guide for the Retiring, and two chapbooks, The Family Profile and New Lebanon. The eighth line of this poem is from Elizabeth Willis’s poem, “And What My Species Did.” “Ruin from the air” is a reference to the book by the same name, written by Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan Witts.

Also by this author
Published in the 2012-12-07 issue: View Contents
© 2024 Commonweal Magazine. All rights reserved. Design by Point Five. Site by Deck Fifty.