Parables and Faxes
by Gweneth Lewis
Our
Lord, the Elephant of God,
Was captured and tortured by slow degrees
As the city lost
It's integrity
The
arrows of mercenaries rained on us
like germs,
till the crumbling walls
Succumbed at last to the siege's
disease.
But
I remember our immunity:
The starlings' static in sighing trees,
The flames of caged canaries,
Green
courtyard bromeliads
Licking the light from under the tamarind;
And Mary's crown like snakes,
Her wrath our torture,
And the cool burn of her composure
The dark center of our best desires,
Our safety lodged in her danger.
"When
Chaos Mends The Garden"