On the road to Emmaus. (Poetry).

On the Road to Emmaus

   I once met a woman who--
   in a frenzy of wild praise
   and to fight the devil--ate glass.
   Not shot glasses, juice glasses,
   or tumblers; not pub pints
   or goblets, but 100 watt
   incandescent bulbs--filament
   and all. Even energy saving
   flourescent tubes slid slowly down
   her throat like flaming swords. She glued
   mirror shards on her teeth to keep
   them clean and to keep the devil
   off his guard. She threaded rusty
   piano wire from cheek to cheek
   to dazzle him with her delicate scars.
   Once, in a holy stupor, she drove
   nails through her hands, perfectly piercing
   the flexor digitorum.
   When she danced with the devil
   (and beat him), she whirled.
   Then her tongue bubbled diamonds,
   and she spilled over with invisible light.

Rose Marie Berger is assistant editor (and poetry editor) of Sojourners.