the author of my faith


has no “breath of paper, ink of skin”
blind and mute to their own body
I trace them with my flesh-starved eyes
hoping, only once, to see the breach
the infraction of ungodly laws
the crack where they have stuffed their soul
the whale, still full, before the flensing.

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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