Misplaced Halos / Swollen

Emily Uduwana

Virgin of Ghent. Ghent Altarpiece. St. Bravo’s Cathedral, Belgium. 15th century

Misplaced Halos

Sweat on my upper lip—
I considered 
joining a convent,
if only for the sense
of direction.

Sweat against skin,
soaking into bedsheets—
every man 
in my husband’s line
has considered 
joining the cloth.

Sweat seeping into fabric—
red wine and tears
from a solitary
communion,
developing a dark halo
around my head—
I’ve never been
devout.

Swollen

Music is supposed 
to swell--
the sound of an orchestra,
a cacophony of willow 
violins,
but I have never heard 
music that swells.

Skin swells--
veins bubbling
under skin,
seizing as a thousand 
golden trumpets
reverberate
across my ribcage.

Skin swells,
but it doesn’t 
sound a whole lot 
like music.

Emily Uduwana is a poet and short fiction author based in Southern California, with recent publications in Miracle Monocle, Eclectica Magazine, and Rubbertop Review. @em_udu