around my neck--all summer, all winter.
I keep it close--you can't touch the beads without touching my skin
or occasional sidewalk seraphim.
I've got a thousand faces, wigs on wire stands
kept at the bottom of a duffel--in the closet at the back of my skull.
Choose one, kiss me, wrap a strand around your knuckle
and behold me--raving beauty, former flame, ordinary uggo.
Water, blessed, still and calm
for angel or centurion--
bless dawn, bless noon, bless sprays of stars
and all that were and all that are.
I've got a lineage, five mothers long
around my neck--all summer, all winter.
I'm the little girl made of snow, the bride in the vestibule gartered, veiled,
given away--then gone through a dream door, armored, mailed.
I speak a thousand tongues, Latin and patois
tell scalding truths--in solitude, under storm and palm--
I'm the girl next door, a holy whore, a musical prodigy without instrument
or tenets, a wild child--your pass around pack, your sacrament.
Water, blessed, still and calm
for angel or centurion--
bless dawn, bless noon, bless spray of stars
and all that were and all that are.
_______
For Brendan's multiplicity prompt at Toads on Day 4.
Well, hell, sign me up for the whole bang shoot!
ReplyDeleteLoved it, Shay. You are all these things and many more to those of us who get free tickets to the magic show.
;-)
A varied collection to behold. The thousand tongue stanza really cements the poem for me.
ReplyDeleteYou never disappoint with your command of image, Shay--here you combine them on the rosary string with the beads of repetition and ritual, still strangely wild for what they are. The whole poem is an entity of great force and coherence, but for me it really starts cooking at the fourth stanza, which is just flawless and mind-bending. The way you repeat the chorus haunts as it frames it perfectly.
ReplyDeleteWhat Kerry said. I especially love the stanza that is repeated. But then I love every word and line you write. This was just excellent to read.
ReplyDelete"Water, blessed, still and calm
ReplyDeletefor angel or centurion--
bless dawn, bless noon, bless spray of stars
and all that were and all that are."
A beautiful write for sure!!
_______
What Sherry and Kerry said. I'm on the waiting list for admission to the magic show.
ReplyDeleteI so love this... so many images... the unexpected measure of the rosary is just one example of something adding to my thought.
ReplyDeleteYou take Ameirgin and Whitman and roll them in a sowhat doobie. Nice blend, but who'd what to go there when we can read you? Thanks for all of it.
ReplyDeleteLove that procession of images and identities. Grows gloriously.
ReplyDeleteLove the images that make up this delightful write. The rythum brings all to life, :-)
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ReplyDeleteI love the power of the words, of the startling couplings you make, that attract and detract (in great ways) in the juxtapositions. And like Hedge, for me, the 4th stanza just really smokes - it kinda pulls it all together, a total baptismal immersion, then we're left standing, weak-kneed, to dry off.
Choose one? No no, I choose them all!
ReplyDeleteThe gloriously heretical imagery here called to the ex-Catholic in me, loud and clear.
ReplyDeleteWow. The repetition is fabulous; it gives the feel of an incantation. Gorgeous spellcraft, girl.
ReplyDeleteyou weave magic, Shay ~
ReplyDeleteI can hear those rosary beads drop with each word. "I speak a thousand tongues, Latin and patois tell scalding truths--in solitude, under storm and palm-"- Love that line.
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