Magdalena Harlow
Tunes of Lilith
Once again, I am confronted with
your Church that turns every embrace
into a bloodbath. I sit here,
a Woman sheathed in a Man’s framework.
You, my Sunday Service company,
pray for a world I do not exist in.
How am I expected to say grace
with those who wish I was erased
from the face of Creation?
My Creation Story is something of medical
mysteries and confusion but yours is an ethereal tale
of an invisible man who hates no one,
except for those who slither past your beliefs.
My Sisters are slaughtered
and the only change you instigate
is a few mumbled words into steadily raised hands,
within your million dollar chapels;
our cries ring in your ears like an organ.
Each casket is stuffed with statistics,
every urn is a cash grab and all
we are expected to do is repent, beg, and convert?
We are not returning.
We will create our own road to Damascus;
where every step, every breath is in the spirit of Lilith,
yet another Sister you tore open with repentance
and left for history to spat upon.
We are not returning.
…but this time
mumbled words shall become shouts, cries and cheers.
Our transgender tunes of time will ring through
our land.
I hope our miracles reach Eden.
Magdalena: Portrait of a Damned Woman
Faced with a mirror,
It seems that my Adam’s apple
has refused to blossom.
I’ve been absolved of the Sins of Man,
but not absolved of
being a Man.
O Mary, my Mother,
You must now kneel
At the foot of all the Crucifixes
Of your banned children.
Because to be a Mother of Women,
Means to birth your baby,
With nails pounded into their palms.
Taught to fear the vile Serpent,
but once I shed my Faith,
I too, began to slither.
An apple never passed my lips,
but I am still banned from Eden.
I find myself Crucified to this
Cross of Chromosomes.
Perfume wraps
around my wrists.
Woman in a Bottle,
Man in Battle.
Born an Entity in a Man’s body,
an Entity in a
Man’s World
...yet
Not Man enough to respect.
Nowhere near Woman enough to Love.
previously published in Hyacinth Review
Magdalena Harlow is a midwestern poet who levitates towards poetic themes such as decay, yearning, and the complexities of gender. Along with poetry, Harlow enjoys oversized cardigans, Iris van Herpen, and Japanese singer-songwriter, Mitski. Harlow’s poems have appeared in Celestite Poetry Journal and Sad Girls Club Literary Blo