I've lost track of how shadows
Can smudge a dusk like this.
How it's a recapitulation
Of the primary text;
A short hagiography
Outlining penance
In the life of a minor friar:
A Dismus of doubt
Hell-bent on stealing heaven.Besides, I take
the long way
Around. It's just this brownout,
This heaviness, this knotted ennui
That hangs at my side
Is so filled with ghosts of you
That it calls for 100 proof Holy Water
On the rocks. Sunk in your harbor
As I drift into the deep drawls of June
And the wilted blooms of bereavement.
All the while, your prayer-promise haunts me
Like the oyster that harbors its irritant to pearl:
"Non ti amato per scherzo."
* He has not loved us in jest
(Angela of Foligno)
Bro. Didacus Wilson, T.O.R. |
