Danielle Aquiline
in selmer, god told that woman to shoot
her husband dead, leave him puddled red
and soggy like french toast or pruned skin.
on a beach in alabama she thought maybe
it wasn't the best idea but still smiled
and told her daughters it was the prettiest
sandcastle she had ever seen. prettier
even than pick-up trucks shooting
sputter out the back pipe, bumpers smiling
up towards jesus stickers and splattered red
clay. the church sign reads, psychics may be
psychic but do they know how rabbit is skinned?
i don't know about you, but my faith is skinny
and whistles when the wind is too pretty,
puckered. everyone seems to figure maybe
the devil goes to work: a single shot
in the back, a pause in pulsing red.
we only keep our teeth all clean to smile
or is it the other way around? i smiled
sheepish at the lady in madison whose skin
plucked and polished my teeth, gums red
and swollen. ya found a church up there? pretty
sly for a dental assistant. she kept shooting
around: ya even go to church? maybe
i hold service in the kitchen, in bed. maybe
only alone or on tuesdays. still smiling,
the children dug their toes in clam holes, shot
slimy strings of seaweed at one another, the skin
green and smooth as a polished bullet, pretty
as the purple shell. if you see red
in god it is only because of the chart; red
compliments green compliments sea water. maybe
yellow fits in there somewhere, but only the prettiest
girls can dress in yellow and love and smile
as bright as heaven. can you imagine a skinless
rabbit? a blood-soaked bible? we get one shot
at hearts red and smiling. when god told that
woman to kill her husband maybe she slit the skin
first. maybe she got dressed real pretty before she decided to shoot.
Danielle Aquiline is a graduate of Columbia College Chicago's MFA program in poetry. She teaches Composition at Columbia. Danielle is also an artist-in-residence with Chicago's Poetry Centers and enjoys taking poetry into elementary classrooms through this project. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in
Pebble Lake Review, Columbia Poetry Review, and Eleventh Muse. In her free time, she enjoys painting, coming to terms with her Southern heritage, and all things food.