Poem: St. Igneous (she's pyrotechnically literate)

Sr. Sedimentary still refuses to talk to me, despite notes and holy ablutionary gestures; keeps throwing corpses of family and friends on the burning pile. She's the wittiest person I'll ever meet.  We water bearers are a trickly lot.  Just sayin'.



St. Igneous on a Roll


Grabs her ankles, flames down the hillock to
thud, jarred, a millisecond. Her miracle,
Metamorphic. Once fire, now earth.

A saint’s gimmick inspires awe, medallions,
intercession with fate, that rock-of-ages
defying sensible choice.

Holy Igneous, pyrotechnically literate,
budge your big Sr. Sedimentary
sitting on life’s spark.

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Sarah Sarai. Originally published in Asbestos. [Hah! but true!] Included in The Future Is Happy.