The Job Poems
i.
And the Lord said to Satan, “Now put forth your hand and touch his bone and his flesh. . .He is in your power; only spare his life. . .” (Job 2:6)
when the gods become jealous, you might as well drink your fill than smear ashes: the stamps will re-echo on your skin, regardless. i didn’t think you could wring any more out of me, what with the heat you strung into my veins the cauterization of the seams in my hands the dark locust wind a rustling—unquiet; but not what i expected. a wavering track: a voice, the uncertain steps of a dying animal. the vaudevillian timing of it all: when the red-clawed, crab-walk of him began, back and forth again. the fates have a pair of scissors baal has a goblet of mutterings he has a scythe snap dragon: my bright colors pop. i separate from the stalk.
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“The Job Poems" were published in the journal Relief in the Summer of 2007.
--Sarah Gajkowski-Hill
Sarah Gajkowski-Hill is a poet who also works as a freelance critic reviewing art, food, and music in Houston, Texas. She has published a collection of poetry entitled, “Distracted,” and her work appears in various other journals. Due to her progressive scleroderma, her poetry mostly focuses on the area of salvific suffering. She lives near the University of St. Thomas in Houston, where she received a Basilian including a minor in Theology. She and her husband have three children, Magdalena, Jude, and Frances Lisieux.
