Offices
matins
as the sun thinks of rising i whisper good morning god into my pillow.
lauds
i splash well water three times on my face as a tonic & walk out into the day; out into the cloister,
into the wind, into the world.
prime
i butter ocean-dark lazurite on bread, roll skins out into flat & O, this parchment is hairy!
terce
i cradle an egg yolk in the palm of my hand, drain the sack its yellow, moisten pigments, point my
brush. i go to parchment & i begin: change phalluses to flowers, flowers to words, this is god’s
work.
sext
i labour under the ease of anonymity & illuminate until my hand aches!
vespers
i put down my desires: i return to my cell and lie down, her hot breath on my neck.
compline
moon rises full tonight & i illuminate, silver.
Lauren Sheerman is currently doing a creative-critical poetry PhD at the University of East Anglia. She has had work published in Fourteen Magazine and in the anthology ‘Brilliant Vibrating Interface’, edited by Spam Zine. More of her work can be found here: www.laurensheerman.co.uk