Saint Reperata - Nicole Inge

​I wonder if the shape
of her faith was apparent
as her body melted in flame.

Wreathed in glow and ash,
she is said to have emerged
unsinged. Arms pulled wide

in beautiful mockery.
No one scraped the boiling
pitch from her throat.

It is likely Reperata was no
more than fifteen when they
folded her body into 

martyrdom. Do you think they 
took her tongue? Slipped it 
from her mouth to be put on 

a high shelf, proud of the work 
they were doing. The Romans 
were always so good at taking. 

Maybe they left out how she 
refused to surrender her body, 
and so history has left very little

of her. All that remains is magic,
mysticism. When they took
off the witch’s head, I wonder


if she was ready to die. 

About the Author: Nicole Inge is a MFA candidate at George Mason University. She works for the Fall for the Book Festival, teaches creative writing to elementary schoolers, and writes about the monstrous feminine. Her work has appeared in Remington Review and Moonchild Magazine.


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