Deborah DeNicola Poems
|1.||Van Gogh's Room||7/11/2012|
|2.||I Was Looking Into Your Eye||7/11/2012|
|6.||First Trip To The Infinite||7/11/2012|
|7.||The Gospel Of Mary||7/11/2012|
|8.||Loving Mark Strand||7/9/2014|
|10.||The Tree At Casa Cara||7/9/2014|
|11.||This Morning From The Porch||7/9/2014|
|13.||The Bath Tub Is Optional||7/9/2014|
|16.||The Fallen Angel||7/11/2012|
|19.||Eve, Eons After||8/6/2014|
|21.||Theresa In Ecstasy||7/11/2012|
|22.||John Baptizing Jesus||7/11/2012|
|24.||The Persistance Of Encumbrance||4/3/2014|
|25.||Noli Me Tangere||7/11/2012|
Noli Me Tangere
There was a presence before the stone.
A pressure so much larger than human
wounds. My mind let go into the crags
of sorrow and I grew
this cavernous heart. It was a tomb
but also a garden.
One is the other
always. The spirit rises. The body stays
and blooms. I took him
for the gardener as the roses were wilted
on the lattice near where he stood.
He'd been broken and nailed
but nothing showed. Not one thorn,
not one bruise. The light stunned,
magnetized me reaching for his robe.
He threw out his arm, a bolt
of lit wires- shocked-I fell ...
There are broken rosaries in my dreams.
We are up to our knees in murky water and the rain
has been poisoned, sallowing our skin with pesticides.
All your life you've been immunized from risk, waiting
for the roof to fall. Listen, it's possible the past will always
carry its cross uphill and the future is just a phantom in an evening dress
seen through stained glass. No doorbell, no mail slot will let her in.
The truth is you have only these small moments fallen in your lap,