(at the appearance of the Hale-Bopp comet)
it is only one star
passing over in nearly twenty years
like a most true love
high in the mountains in the river valley
we three
padded out in slippers
on the earth colored slate
is it there, is it really there?
it is almost a still life, a painter's accident
whitish and bluish whisked by a sleeve
more smudgy than I imagined
the nun, one of us, cried girlishly,
"how fun!" and I and my friend
were agape and loose-kneed,
still percolating in our 30's
we have known each other since kindergarten,
when we wore soft clothes
with pink ribbons sewn in
we colored pictures of pails and globes and oranges
and marys in blue
we were gullible and radiant
in the manner of five
giggling in the coat closet
we each carried our innocence reverently
in a glowing chalice
a processional
from girlhood to now
are we innocent still?
we are weary of considerations
sometimes it seems too dangerous to live
our lives are choice and vigilance
scrupulous star,
marker of this moment,
you remind us that now is significant
though the time stars go by
is time we know nothing of
I am not in the straight and narrow
but in the thick of things
I think I need to begin again,
paschal star,
I cannot find who is genuine
and I am all within myself
because of it
my friend quips,
the nun touches my shoulder,
tomorrow is Easter.
|
first
thing on a monday
All the trains are all backed up, it's a god damn mess. major delays this morning.
all because somebody had to go jump in front of the train. Jumped right in front of the train, just like that. a-g-g-h, these people.
now my stomach's killing me, hadda take aspirin 'cause I had a headache from this whole thing, trying to correct it. I'm gonna have this stomach ache the whole day now.
these people. they have to screw everything up. can't they do this some other time? why do they have to do this first thing on a Monday?
|
© 2001 Maryellen Cammarosano
