Rosary
However joyful or luminous,
I spread my Marys out,
Hailing each section upon
The glass beads in recitation
Of the beloved and mysterious.
My very Catholic mother
Who says her penance weekly
Gave me the device
When I asked her
Why the elderly lady wore the necklace
So tightly around her crinkled wrists
While whispering at the bus stop.
My mother uses it to count the decades.
I count my teens with the most reproach.
Excommunication used to worry me.
I pleaded each sin out, a passion play
Stationed under impending grace.
In the repetition, I crowned an infant
Replete from womb and cross.
Exhaled from each prayer.
A miracle manifests in concentration,
Holy orders over all.
["Rosary" is nominated for the 2007 Pushcart Prize. The nominating magazine was
published by Turtle Ink Press, Syracuse, NY]
-----
Dipping Well
When
I was to genuflect,
I always second-guessed
Which knee to bow.
I felt surreptitiously suspect
If I were to lower a left
When right was the convention.
When
I looked upon the cross,
I sometimes paused long enough
To utter the words
In name of father, son, holy ghost.
Often I sped through, leaving room
For mother, daughter, need this most.
I often bent my fingers into the dipping well,
Painting my forehead with the blessed drops,
Wondering which color they would burn
If I were in the wrong.
Conspicuous, I eyed the other girls in pews,
Searching for their pigtails laced and bound.
Were there a leak in the font
Would it lead me to them?
["Dipping
Well" was published by Black Robert Journal in 2008. This journal is edited by Alexander Jorgensen who resides in Hong Kong.]
