Euphorium Brooklyn, CILICE
The first rays fall in stripes across her bare thigh, igniting the metal lattice of her cilice. She draws it tight above her knee until the skin around it stings and her whole body sings praises. She is awake before the world, clenching her rosary with every sparrow’s song. The lanterns still burn in the cloister casting pale shadows against the abbey walls, long imbued with incense and awe. A wisp of spring air catches in her throat and for a moment she is running with the sun against her shoulders. She falls to her knees upon new grass. A clasp. Hot leather against her cheek. Amen. She lights a candle and wills away such earthly pleasures. How evanescent is the smoke. How brightly burns the flame.
*featured image by Tal Shpantzer