( to B. M. )

In the ritual
you hold
between the words
and the cigarette smoke
you sweeten your coffee
with 33 sugar grains

Through you centuries
pass
grooving the lines
of the saints' faces in the carvings
as the light
plays through your fingers





Lydia

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Comment by Salvatore Buttaci on March 18, 2010 at 5:19pm
Nobody presents imagery and metaphoric gems like you!
Comment by Sandra Davies on March 18, 2010 at 11:32am
I'm intrigued by the fact that every time I come back and read this it gives me something else to ponder on, another image comes to mind.
Comment by alisa rynay haller on March 18, 2010 at 10:21am
thru you centuries pass,,,you never cease to amaze me.
Comment by dris khalillou on March 17, 2010 at 6:41pm
Yes. the light that plays through the fingers is life.
A nice poem.
Comment by Teresa on March 17, 2010 at 6:40pm
Beautiful image, Lydia.
Comment by Joseph Lupoli on March 17, 2010 at 5:00pm
Splendid poem. And to think that I normally don't care for poetry. Great depth to this one. Bravo!
Comment by Jeanette Cheezum on March 17, 2010 at 4:34pm
What a beautiful piece of poetry. You are the art.

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