An Ineffable Sestina

Ultimately, she will be served 
on her stained bed of silver, 
placed on the table of a rich man 
with an apple in her mouth 
forced into a glazed dress 
with her palms pointed to God. 

“Was this ultimate?” she asked God, 
“To be butchered and served 
in such a degrading and beautiful dress 
with my mother’s finest silver?” 
She asked Him with her gagged mouth. 
Then came an answer from a man, 

who was not yet God but only a man. 
Who was not yet fit to be God. 
Who was not yet to be from God’s mouth. 
Whose hand will cook her to be served. 
Whose consciousness is forged silver. 
Whose cutlery has threaded her dress.

“You are more beautiful in your dress, 
you will be more pleasing to a man. 
You are more delectable with silver; 
you have no more reason to hate Me; 
you are more than gifted to be served.” 
He said without a word from his mouth, 

and she, still with her stuffed red mouth, 
wallowed in her tight and modest dress. 
She thought of being immodestly served 
before this man or any faithful man. 
She would not plead to this God; 
instead, was silent on her bed of silver. 

She is holy on her bed of silver 
with a crisp apple locked in her mouth, 
with her roped palms pointed to God, 
with her angelic and seasoned dress, 
is spread on the bare plate of a lavish man 
where she is ultimately served.