August 7, 2012

Belief by Joan Colby


Dust congregates in corners.
Windows smear
Where the dog exhales
Guarding her cloister.

Mildew’s black insect choir
Halleluiahs across the bathroom ceiling.
Small parishioners of crumbs
Gather beneath cushions—unconsumed blessings.

Mice droppings unveil nocturnal processions.
What can they pray for
In the silverware drawer?

All things incarnate
Tarnish, fade or ravel.

The mirror baptizes
Sagging faces. Sorrow
Hoods the eye like a monk’s cowl.

In a south window nook,
A forgotten orchid resurrects
A trinity of lent-hued flowers.

4 comments:

  1. I like this one very much. Vintage Colby.

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  2. Christina Zawadiwsky - xristya@rock.com - A great poem about life past and remaining in stasis. I love the orchid image!

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  3. Magnificent. Thank you for incarnating this belief in words.

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