Gravity’s maker, spinner of spheres and spiraling matter,
made into weight, to sweat. His own feet vulnerable,
drawn flat and close against the punishing ground.
Star-strayed infant, wrapped in weight, heavy heaven.
In the hollow of the years, long and narrow as a well,
he waits suspended, bucket-drawn, clapper in a bell.
Ringing and ringing in the heatfolds of gravity, lines and lines
of weight leaning us into each other, caught up, tumbled
open-face roses in a blue bolt of thorn-pricked cloth.
God made known, fleshly God, Godlight bodied, bleeding
out into wood, over stone. God from God, telluric God,
shadowcast God, lightstricken God, bloodwritten. The pull
electric of low, deep center. God flesh, corpus God, Verbum
corpse, light-riven. Inscribed, blooded, God-heft falling death-
bitten into weighted rising, made and given; the miracle of leaven.
From Struck Dumb with Singing (Lambing Press, 2020). Used by permission of the author.
LeighAnna Schesser is a Catholic writer from south-central Kansas whose poetry collections include Struck Dumb with Singing (2020) and Heartland (2016).
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