THE BURN - cortney mclellan


cortney mclellan

“Careful not to squawk when you’re dipped in the blood.” Aunt Nan threw a white sweater at me. “And cover those titties. Congregation don’t want to be thinking dirty at no baptism.”

When the preacher sprinkled the water on me, it didn’t burn how Nan said. And if something came in my heart it did so quiet.

I was still in all my lacy white when Jerry come for me after church. He twirled me for Nan, saying she did a job prettying up his girl, and she told him be good to the Lord’s new vessel.

In the truck, Jerry started pulling at my skirt. I told him: “No. I’m made clean. Got someone watching me now.”

That’s when I felt the burn, Jerry’s hand stronger than church water. “Don’t tell me no, girl,” he said, tearing at the lace.

I ain’t so dumb not to know when his eyes are bugged like that.

Jerry don’t see the piece of God they put in me. Can’t see it, but I know it’s there. I’m guessing he’ll see it too, if I just wait a time.

Cortney McLellan
Baby Mine
Ron Savage