St. Mary of the One Night Stand
Plastic prayer beads can’t keep you
out of my bed. Water glass in hand,
I am a pilgrim without pilgrimage.
From body to body I break the day,
its morning yolk a smear
across my nose.
You’re still sleeping
when I go through the rites, a cross
on my chest touched by fingers
I’ve known before.
I am exhausted from heaven.
Baby, no more
miracles—our chapel has thorns.
The Martyr Club
Girls like me love ancient thinking, we wear robes stained with yesterday’s wine, we wait for an ascension to heaven while standing in line to get into the martyr club, our chests studded with arrows, our hands seared with ink, we dance in golden tesserae, legs flashing neon while smoking cigarettes, we drink from silver goblets left out for the prophet, we are abandoned, in love with our gore, the heavy door propped wide open to let the night in, to let the lions in.
Hannah Cohen lives in Virginia and received her MFA from Queens University of Charlotte. Her debut poetry chapbook Bad Anatomy will be published by Glass Poetry Press in 2018. Recent and forthcoming publications include Noble/Gas Qtrly, Calamus Journal, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Ellis Review, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, and elsewhere.