Milla Jade Kuiper

POETRY

The Groom’s Hunger

“The Groom’s Hunger” read by Milla Kuiper.

The devil held my hand in church
and whispered
Must you dress like a pagan in front of our Lord?
He drew a cross on his forehead in ashes
and grinned
and whispered
shhhh

The devil slid his hand up my party dress
and whispered
you are beautifully and wonderfully made
He closed my hands around his glass
and fingered my hair
and whispered
drink

The devil kissed my mother on the mouth
and promised
I’ll have her home by midnight
He carried me to the car at two minutes ‘til
and tearfully
he offered
drive safe

The devil lifted my wedding veil and licked his lips
and whispered
God, don’t you know how much I love you?
He knelt with me by the altar
and passed me the wine
and whispered
man cannot live on bread alone

In Your Love

“In Your Love” read by Milla Kuiper.

This weeping sinner I’ve emerged, remangled from what my God made me
like what you said, of you to me, I spit in the face of what my God gave me.

You opened the meat fridge and saw me, hooked and dangling
sweat glittering jewels over lumps of open muscles, desperate, my God, take me

into your home from my plight, as yours, a promise lacking words
but words, too, failed as you cradled and pinned me down to, my God, take me

to call me my love, my wife, my slut, in this dark night we are one by your will
so kiss me, bleed me, weep me, strip me, hold me, will my God save me?

I cry like a goddess birthing an ocean, bitter bride breaking teeth on her cage
I make myself vile, tear my skirts, let the absence of my God grace me

for I ran, away instead of back, prodigal daughter unready to come home,
blaming myself, blaming you, blaming your parents, blaming my God. Deface me

and I’ll crawl on my belly to please you. But for all I’ve done and suffered,
is my earthly strength enough to reclaim the cross my God traded me?

For everything you put me through, all the weight I’ve borne under you
am I greater than Job, who in his agony never gave up my God? Hate me

for my heresy, not ungrateful but weeping, prone to leaving, cut-and-running
but no matter where I run, there is my God to chase me.

A veiled woman, bleeding and unmarried, weather-whitened statuette edified
in shame, stone-carved, unbreathing, not molded as from clay, the way my God made me,

stands thoughtless, numbed. The body, once your sport of choice, now
a box locked from the inside. Never been more afraid to let my God face me.

But in time, a proud daughter calls up to the marble’s demurely tilted face, Thou sleepest!
Startled awake, her sloshing organs soften her skin to clay, and she cries, my God, reshape me!

Milla Jade Kuiper is a young writer who loves Appalachian music and tracking the patterns of the stars. She is still learning who Jesus is. If you like her work, you can also find her in Academy of the Heart and Mind and Garfield Lake Review.

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