May 29, 2011

Poetry Sunday

Emblazon on, oh sun, blaze on
as perfumed air lifts its burning
maple head, and undiluted Summer
lay upon my patio stones.

Blaze on, oh altar incense, blaze on
as perfumed prayers lift their smoky
longings and undiluted God
lay upon our mortal flesh.


I remember Aunt Mary
and her hermitage on Hooven
and the sounds of doves
on otherwise quiet mornings
and that bank of books
leather-jacketed but long unread
(for her eyes had gone bad).

I remember Aunt Mary,
who lived simply
and died simply
without a fuss,
for all her desperations were quiet.

I remember Aunt Mary,
who lacked the world’s props:
of long walks or bike-rides,
or pints of beer or shots of whiskey
no European trips or internet companions
nothing but the television and it’s glassy glow
and God, when she could feel Him.

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