Poetry: Prophet Babe Pop
I want to be a prophet babe,
a radical imagination for the frogs
visions of a pink galaxy
horizons for the waterway
The World to Come crisping up as sunny-side
astroids—
a peony parade unfolding and pulsing.
I know when spring is coming,
I foretold the California superbloom
and at noon the sourdough toast will rise
from the toaster and leap into the sea.
One day, teenage girls will inherit the world,
and I will be the prophet who launched a thousand
lipglosses.
Oh, I am not Torah,
but I am Twitter midrash.
a prophet babe,
every niggun a pop song
every prayer shawl, a crop top.
Poetry Editor Alicia Ostriker comments: Feminism can be fun! Yerington leaps from the cosmic to the surreal, and from Torah to Twitter, with the swing of a show tune, costumes from the nineties, and a megaphone for teenage girls the world over. A pink galaxy! Twitter midrash, yeah, why not? I enjoy Yerington’s vitality and vulgarity, and the way this bit of entertainment might be a prayer to the Shekhinah in disguise.
