McKay

4X2

an online poetry journal

Eucharist, Super

by Emily McKay

O beard-netted deli man,
O plexiglass donut dollhouse
O tank of rubbercuffed lobsters
O semireflective office windows of the HR tabernacle, built o’er
the motion sensor city gate

no hero can exist here, no history in any aisle;
gravity a trapped sparrow that dares not land

O God you are a God
without administrative cherubim
O God you are a God
wholly consumed by data entry
O God you are a God
struggling to file this huge polystyrene omniscience

At night we sparrows descend
the tree of knowledge neither good nor evil
and we queue
and we know

whether we're lions or bureaucrats or art teachers,
whether I have mushrooms or gold or kittens,
it’s one dream, and I'd be missing the point
to ask what you mean, or your beard, or your meat

Poet's Statement: "Eucharist, Super" developed partly from my fascination with T.S. Eliot's use of heavy Biblical language in unexpected places, especially very modern ones. The place I vindictively chose to put us is The Supermarket. Behind every cereal box and every off brand bottle of prune juice is a keen desire to win you over - with overbright colors, fonts custom-made for every target demographic, and cartoon animals whose species have been extensively debated by focus groups. It is too much. Omniscience, here, isn't something we would wish on anybody.

Bio: Emily McKay is a Creative Writing MLitt of the University of Saint Andrews in Scotland, where she also studied English & Philosophy as an undergraduate. In the five years since, she has worked as a cheesemonger in Scotland, a veterinary receptionist in Florida, and now an electrical calibration technician at a tech company in California. She lives with her husband, two magnificent cats Franz Katka and Duva, and various other beasts. Her poetry and fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Shenandoah, Glimmer Train, The Conium Review, Vallum, Flock and Zarf.