Jun 28, 2017


Written by Luke Hankins

Read by Masie Cochran

Drunk and faltering
in my midnight chair,
someone gripped me
by the hair and raised my head.
I saw St. Theresa of Avila,
with St. John of the Cross and Rumi
by her side, arm in arm.
And then through the door behind them
came Rabia Al-Basri and Bashõ,
all with garish, wine-drenched smiles,
blood-purple lips.
They asked me, “What are you doing?”
and I said “No, what are you doing?”
They said, “We are drunk on the wine of the beloved.”
I said, “I am drunk but have no beloved.”
St. Theresa pulled my hair harder
and said, “Oh, yes you do!”–
and smothered me
with her wine-soured mouth.