A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

Where does salvation lie?  In the alcove of ferns
& black wind, feast of lotus & dark names
Or, in this rented room where all imaginings cease
dry tales of hurt, childhood’s terrible grief

A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

I think now of the women of Renoir, upon whose
bodies the soft lght of summer slides, & cool
mystery of their thighs that vise both convents
& cheap cafes—Madonna & satyr, wicked alchemy

A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

Who is she?  Her brightblue name whose hands
trail sugarplums & green valleys: whose face strikes
rats & caravansery, serpenthood of scrolls
Atlantis, madrigals, battleships & Hitchcock knives

A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

Eons ago, Eden & Eve were fluted by a lord
of the flies; until time churned the ichor in her blood:
her masks sleep now on ocean floors, hunt the moon:
The beast, like an old disease, stirs from Loch Ness deep

A strange woman sleeps in the cradle

From Collection / Rosary of Summer, 1977

Advertisements
This entry was posted in POETRY OF EDEL GARCELLANO, selected by G.Y. Guillermo. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s