memorial for a brilliant woman

Saturday, March 15, 2008

A poem for the ides of march


A holy man once told me
there were many steps
to the kingdom of heaven.

A different prophet claimed
to be holy was to be cheesy,
and there were no steps at all.

Though intrigued by covenants,
celestial pie leaves me impossibly
hungry now, pale and earthbound.

Like the golden starred certificates
given at the end of the school year
to the pretty girls, athletic boys,

I have no delusions to dispel,
this ant carries only its own weight,
hardly enough, yet still a burden.

It is the only set of stairs I know.
In the end, between floors,
I will leave nothing, take nothing

In the beginning, there was hope
leaking from all I gathered about me,
gone before I was fully awake.

Know this then: your voice
binds me to this place. Hold me
hostage, accept no ransom.

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