Sheila-Na-Gig

Mother-God trimmed with trappings of body,
small spaces, voids. You've made me
in your image, a secret. I'm quite
a thing, really something
else, a gazingstock.

Send diversions: horns,
dog's jaws, slivers of moon, blood, water,
petal-showers, flower-mouths open,
demurring to resemble us.
Send rib bones, bright ribbons
torn from the maypole,
baby's yawn and iron cauldron,
the side wound of Jesus, a red eye winking.