Wednesday, June 17, 2009

the muse strikes

Boston, August 2009:

My letter
falls from his fingers
and he turns
his head
facing sunlight
streams in misted windows.
Sorrow and
tears of blood, shed.
Should he light a
candle
for my wayward soul?
His halo glows
brilliant
as the wooden rosary
around his neck.
Brown rough cotton
thick rope knotted
bursting seams,
he bows his obedience.

Somewhere, that same month:

I watch you sleep
arm tucked
behind your head
breasts full,
round
like the moon
we rest under.
This is all the
holy I need.

6 comments:

Earth Muffin said...

Beautiful.

m.m.sugar said...

Indeed!

Dragon said...

very nice!

~seelenschmerz~ said...

VERY nice piece :-)
btw....this little bittie from my P.I.C. to you:

"Note to Camlin or for You to pass on to her....check out WOODS - Women Out of Doors Socially....it is a lesbian run group in the area of Waterloo that holds a lot of exciting events and allows you to get to know more people in your area. I had a great time with them for the years I lived in KW. Just passing on the goodness! : ) "

Em said...

"This is all the holy I need"
What a glorious last line.

Beautiful poem. Thank you.

Camlin said...

Thanks, everyone. I love positive feedback!

seelenschmerz - I've heard of HOWL (hanging out with lesbians, but I've never heard of WOODS. I'll have to look it up. I spend a lot of time in Guelph, where most of my friends are. I need to meet more KW people.