Costly Oil Poem by Joe Bisicchia

There is a place, and once there, or here, maybe we can stay.
Supposedly rich, we can afford this anointing lighthouse.

Sad if still we fail to see this spread of sea in front of us,
this lavishing of spikenard mirroring sun, heaven upon earth.

And, up high it is so easy to see all of the universe. And yet,
why is it up here even upon our lofty echelon, we so soon forget

our gift of vision? We look through even each other, and go blind
in our memory. Sometimes seems there does not seem to be

much difference between what is alive and what is stinking dead.
Our nostrils may tell us first instead that our eyes have nosedived.





Published by Nthanda Review,2018