The Maynard
Fall 2017

Savanna Scott Leslie


Let him see me and tremble.

I have streaked my brow and breast with oil.

Let him see me and collapse from the inside, the way a rotten fruit sinks into itself.

I have unbound my hair.

I have left my women and I am coming now through fog.

He will lay his terrible weapons down.

I have said my prayers.

He will lie beneath a purple cloth.

He will smile a captor’s smile as the blood pools hot velvet under my tongue.

Give me your shining fearlessness.

He will sink, shivering, into my pupils.

Give me his heedless sleep.

I carry the blessing of gasping souls, hearts cast in cold iron.

I carry his treasure home.