After Abraham’s Offering, 1635 by Rembrandt
Isaac, masked
by the calloused hand
forcing his head back,
can sense little but
the hand’s warmth,
its pressure, its scent
of figs or olives or flax—
plus the blunt stab
of firewood at his back.
Perhaps a dry breeze,
the sun’s warmth,
the chirps of scrub
warblers. His body looks
relaxed: legs unbound
yet folded in,
chest, still
packing baby fat,
unflexed and slack.
Is it the angel’s aura
that calms him?
Or is the smell
of his father’s skin,
even now,
enough?
Caleb A.P. Parker is a poet and musician from the industrialized Gulf Coast of Texas. Raised by mystic Christian ministers, he went on to complete an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Wisconsin–Madison. He is currently spending a year in community at the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine in New York City.