Visions of Fatima

Teresa Pham

We saw then a woman
brighter than the sun, shedding rays of light.
-Lucia Santos

On the first thirteenth day,
I dragged linens through a cold stream –
my hands moving like doves.

I hung thirteen glass shells above my window
for the thirteen boys I thought I loved.
Light pierced through, sharp and white.

I saw a passing woman who had the complexion
of clean lamb’s hide and limbs shrouded in lace.
The filmy, churning milk – soft in ways I was not.

On sun-soaked afternoons, I took and laid
my starch-skirted body flat on a flowering hilltop.
Light spilled into my waiting pores, my open mouth.

On the last thirteenth day, I began to bleed,
the scent of burnt bronze filling my hollows,
secrets moving like whispered tongues.