Belly of the Whale
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

Pope Innocent the VIII drank the blood
of three ten-year olds to attain everlasting
life. He had slaves nurse him to sleep.

The one-to-one correspondences
of letter to spirit mean nothing when children
die that way, when women are used that way.

The great breath of the universe keeps no clay vessels
assembled for long. And when the angel came,
the pope, and those who sat watching by his bedside,

frantically waved their thin ribbons of faith, like krill
whipping their antenna to avoid the lunging whale–sifting
them into its dark, eternal belly.