Blank

 By Shannon L. DeGrave      

white                     marble

statues make me                      nervous,

those vacant [              ]-eyed madonnas

with hair-thin              smiles,

too peaceful to            be agitated                  

by mortal                                 circumstance,

too much like

blank [             ]-faced hosts,

[fragile]                       by design, fragile

to be                            broken

along sight [                ]-less lines,

and all I’m asking                   is to be [seen],

                                                                        for once.

long have I sought                  the face of God,

and yet,           I [circumstantial]            cannot bear

to look him in             that eye,

white and                                unblinking,

that slain [                   ] body crying out

for justice,       filling my mouth.        I do

n’t just             bite

down on Jesus,

I chomp                       at the bit,

hungry                         for more         

than a paper                -doll God

cut out [                       ] from a child

’s pious                       songs.

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Shannon L. DeGrave is an expatriate of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula currently living in Cleveland, OH. They can be spotted stomping through a Metropark, pretending it’s the deep woods. They have been published with America Magazine, Sanctuary Magazine, and Engage the Culture.