Elizabeth Akin Stelling
“Disabled Guardian Angel”
A Call to Souls
By Tyson West
The darkened pine grove
On the west bank of the mountain river
Conceals the brick walls
Of the Convent of the Holy Names
Where prostrates the flesh of a woman
Whose veins and arteries
Still retain resilience
And whose mind sculpts
Silences transmitted from a golden box ─
It is this love
That keeps me a prisoner in the tabernacle.
Veiled under the species of bread
And concealed in the small white host
Longing to wash away their sins,
Not in water, but in my blood.
My work rests on nothingness and misery
I will use you
To show that I love misery
Littleness and absolute nothingness ─
To the eternity of clean sheets on which I lay
Next to the sagging skin of a woman bearing
Artificially colored hair
And moods that swing as wildly
As the shades and path of the moon
Puzzled why she must consume my littleness and nothingness
To fly through the window over the abyss of love
Past the third star to the right
Then straight on until morning.
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