Tuesday, March 8, 2016

salve regina sutra

for Mairi

this valley of tears in the western New England
lowlands even the forsythia held in abeyance,
Good Friday dogwood that won’t struggle forth till May Day:
        in the sky, ice & sleet & steel-edged
        clouds—in the sky still further the
Pillars of Creation erupting in stars & more stars & more
stars, these infinite crowns spanning ghostly gray & crimson
light years: generation & death & black stars & violet stars &
white stars these violent coruscations,
        the four last things: ferocity, intoxication,
        oxygen, prayers for the dying—
this valley of tears in western Oregon, camellias scarlet as
so many hearts laid bare on the avenue where I walk
half-sick & coughing yellow phlegm in the raw egg air & first
magnolias blossoming fleshy in the rain & in memoriam a crimson
        rose bouquet framed in Lily of the
        Valley tears in this our exile
these things springing from earth returning to earth in
E minor in simple waltz time: in this our exile I recall the
kindness you brought to the dying; beyond the sky the
stellar fruit of gas cloud wombs, those de profundis
        membranes exploded to
        every particle of being into the actual
four-part vox humana an organ’s diapason triad these hoofbeats of two
white horses: this endless concatenation of explosions all the miles
of action to absolute zero—
        until then we remain dying in our
own good time in these lands blossoming unbroken
        compassion only

Jack Hayes
© 2016

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