Even the Saints Audition

By Raych Jackson

2019 Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago - Best New Poetry Collection Winner
2019 Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago - Best Poet Runner-Up

In Even the Saints Audition Raych Jackson Reconditions her body and reclaims her church.

This empowering book of poems interrogates the relationship between blackness, shame, and what it is to live a life tied to the church. Rich with historical context and a deeply engaging personal narrative. This body of work is bursting with charm, wit, and pride, as it dances on the thin line between saint and sinner.
Includes poems such as "Period Rules", “A Wasted Ass Shave”, and "I Ask What 'Circumcision' Means in a Full Sunday School Class" that have been watched by millions online

Advance praise for Even the Saints Audition

This is an important and brave book, one that keeps me asking for more.
-Fatimah Asghar, Author of IF THEY COME FOR US / co-creator of BROWN GIRLS

Jackson rearranges the scripture of God until it is a machine that works for her. Her bible blesses the ones who roam.
-Kara Jackson, Author of BLOODSTONE / National Youth Poet Laureate

This work is a sinner's diary, made of the secrets between pews, the notes beneath the hymns and the guilt writhing within desire.
-Toaster, Artist

• Language: English
• Publisher: Button Poetry
• Release date: Sep 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781943735716

Raych Jackson

Rachel “Raych” Jackson is a writer, educator and performer. While teaching in Chicago Public Schools for five years, she competed on numerous national poetry teams and individual competitions. She is the 2017 NUPIC Champion and a 2017 Pink Door fellow. Rachel recently voiced 'DJ Raych' in the game Mad Verse City. In October 2018 her latest play, Emotions and Bots, premiered at the Woerdz Festival in Lucerne Switzerland. She co-created the monthly poetry show Big Kid Slam. Rachel’s work has been published by many—including Poetry Magazine, The Rumpus, and 29Rooms through Refinery29. She is work

Book preview

Audition

On Job

A retelling

At dinner, God brags about his best saint. Job¹ is God’s most loyal follower. He prays on time & worships loud with his head down. A role model; blessed & rich. The Devil picks at his plate quietly. He doesn’t like his greens leaking onto the cornbread; God hands him an extra plate without the request. The Devil lays his challenge on the table in between steaming dishes. Prove it. Without blessings Job’s faith will weaken. Like Moses, like Samson, like every human who confuses an anointing with absolution. Remove your protection & Job will curse you. With the Devil’s help, anyone will betray God. Like Adam, like David, like every human who confuses being a favorite with safety. God lent Job to him; Job was His anyway. The Devil shouldn’t dare God in His own house & not expect follow through.

Job nailed the part;      praised God the whole scene.

after all he owned was destroyed

after his children were murdered

after pus filled sores littered his body

God let the Devil           experiment

until scraps & bones

lay on both their plates.

He proved His point on a full stomach.

You win God.

At the end of the night         God dropped

extra blessings on Job while packing

the Devil a to go bag.

Separate containers of course,

he hates his food touching

more than losing a bet.

We’ll have to do this again sometime.

Who else is worthy?

& that’s how the story

goes, the Devil & God

having dinner & a show.

My Sunday School teacher

claims this is a lesson about

faith during the hard times.

God will reward us for

suffering. I peel through

each chapter at home &

the scab gets worse.

I return to the Devil asking

permission to torment.

I can’t overlook God saying yes.

1. pronounced [Jōb]

Act One

On Job

God will give you nothing more than you can bear is the rehearsed mantra. It’s drilled on the inside wrist of every person in my momma’s church. Their skin has already healed around the screw, convincing them abuse is necessary in relationships.

God will give you nothing more than you keeps the saints hungry for the reward after. They bob in the church’s nest with their mouths wide open & try to snatch encouragement from the pulpit.

God will give you nothing more The Sunday School teacher cuts her fingers collecting rusted grace from the prayer. There’s a new test in class; an undeveloped saint blooming with questions. The choir director should be ashamed. A mother who raises a sinner is no mother at all.

God will give you nothing The Sunday School teacher reports her day to God & waits on the edge of her bed. She stretches her neck up & caws for an answer. God has to bless her for teaching a child whose soul is already lost.

I ask Where do children go when they die?