That Film About the Poets

Of the one who lived in paris
& made movies about the art world,
living in the pompadour
of stained glass once seen
in architectural digest.

Or the one whose soul was born
In a concentration camp.
Hitler’s worst nightmare of a jew
Who could out-write the nibelungenlied.

Alas, I am too fresh faced.
I must wrinkle for a very long time.
My wheelchair is not enough.
I must be housed in the walls of wood
& oriental runners whispering chinese
Through the walls more meaningful
Than the proverbs of fortune cookies.

This is the monster I wish to become

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poem by Marina Gipps
Added by Poetry Lover
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Juana's Sestina

October came like a bandit who stole
every prayer saved in our afternoons of grief,
beside her empty bed and crucifix
where she once joked, holding her Bible,
of Christ lighting Judas's ass on fire.
They were friends now and she had been invited

to see this, as told in my dream, invited
me, but mother woke me before Death stole
me, almost gone into the sinner's fire.
But Grandmother Juana gone this October grief
would have saved me I know with her Bible
near bed, radio sermon and crucifix,

Would have joked of how she snuck the crucifix
away from church friends she hadn't invited,
to exchange gossip as they kissed her Bible,
the way words caress bloody Death who stole
our every prayer saved in our afternoons of grief,
laughing aloud of that dreamy fire,

[...] Read more

poem by Marina Gipps
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!