The Shroud of Turin

The Shroud of Turin

Nora Kirkham

On Friday I ride into town on the 216,
taking a seat beside the old women and waiting mother.

I see your face printed on a poster, a glimpse
of your burial linen on a framed square behind the driver.

Your mouth drops in tones of yellow ochre.
Your eyelids are sealed iron doors.
A man leans his cheek against you, then turns away.

How dark is it in there?
How bright is this love you are casting into the chasm—
Even as your own wrists pale and fall?

We are coming to a stop now.
Someday, maybe, you will tell me what the space
between you and me looked like,
if any of us will remember this at all.

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Nora Kirkham
Poet & MA & M.Litt Graduate

Nora has been published in Rock & Sling, Ruminate Magazine, The Christian Century, Topology Magazine, St Katherine Review, and Tokyo Poetry Journal

Photography by Aron Yigin