Before we fell and wrapped ourselves in sin
A fig leaf seemed enough—if that—to shade
Us from His eye. Cool breezes cooled our skin.
You might well say we really had it made.
When knowledge reared its head, removed our daze,
We gained a self-awareness, so to speak,
While God observed in non-controlling ways.
I think He knew that we were up the creek.
The centuries roll on, yet we lack grace.
Consumed with angst and guilt, when feeling bad
We pile on spandex, velvet, fur and lace,
Then pad, constrict, drape golden chains and add
Some shoes. They are the final cosmic joke,
The most absurd of garments that we wear—
Outsized, grotesque, misshapen things that choke
Our feet. We find redemption when we’re bare.
- A former Wilbur Fellow and six-time nominee for a Pushcart award, in 2007, she has published three books, Measured By Song, Making Music.
As one of two finalists in the 2013 Aldrich Press Poetry Book Award, Cook was awarded publication of the manuscript for The View From Here, her third book
I During Poetry Week 2014, The Poetry Collecftion at SUNYAB, Buffalo, published Cook’s chapbook of her work.
Poems and essays by Sally Cook have appeared in numerous magazines and journals such as Blue Unicorn, Chronicles, First Things, The Formalist Portal, Light Quarterly, Lighten Up Online, National Review, Pennsylvania Review, Trinacria and other venues, both print and electronic.
The poet is also a painter of Magic Realist paintings. She began as an exhibitor in Manhattan’s Tenth Street Co-operative Galleries, moved into geometrics and went on from there. Her work has been exhibited at many leading galleries and museums and represented in national collections.