Lamenting Sackcloth

Lamenting Sackcloth

Lee Kiblinger

I ransacked the attic,
rummaging
through bygone
bags and days,
what felt musty
in filth long-frayed—

and unearthed
this burlap habit,
hemmed, fashioned,
suited for sabbath

but so massive,
so I groped tight
its wooded grit

and with dull blade,
I fabricated
a flaxed fit,

some suitable dress—

(heartless, I confess)

and it just fell,
with hope impaled—

so I wear
the grief
of not grieving,

guilt unwailed—

now my coarse heart
hangs heavy
with what
won’t rend—
baggy and callous
beneath its own skin.

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Lee Kiblinger
Teacher & Poet

Lee is a teacher and late blooming poet from Tyler, Texas, where she spends her time devouring novels, grading essays, laughing with three teenagers, and enjoying poems with Rabbit Room poets. Her work can be found in Ekstasis, Solum Journal, Heart of Flesh, and Clayjar Review and others. You can read more of her poetry at www.ripplesoflaughter.com.

Photography by Peter Herrmann