Holy Water In The Age of Covid
The priests said
the world was ever right
if we sit with calm,
a bottle of holy water
run from the tap
of our self-contained houses.
We left the rhythm of the womb,
and the rocking of the cradle
to learn the rocking of beats
until the silence exploded.
Wise men held their tongues,
as should those at the poker table.
People obsessed over
the depths of their breath,
through their noses, their skin.
A haven of things discovered
within new messages
of what the night told them,
and the day concurred.
There’s still thirst
now that the wine has been drunk,
but that water from the tap is not only holy, but wet.
Linda Imbler
Linda Imbler’s poetry collections include four published works by Amazon, “Big Questions, Little Sleep,” “Lost and Found,” “Red Is The Sunrise,” and “Bus Lights, Travel Sights.” Soma Publishing has published her three e-book collections, “The Sea’s Secret Song,” “Pairings,” a hybrid of short fiction and poetry, and “That Fifth Element.” Examples of Linda’s poetry and a listing of publications can be found at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. In addition to writing, she helps her husband, a Luthier, build acoustic guitars.
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Poetry
Needs a frame. Fine work.
ReplyDeleteMost corona poems lack artistry. This poem has the urgency necessary to inform the artistry. Well done.
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