SALTY DEW
This autumn wind-chime Sophie made
like El Anatsui (African
weaver spider-man)
from plastic leaves & bottlecaps, tied
with bright ribbons – a key, a table knife,
a silver keychain ring,
a crystal ball... everything
needful for the voyage into afterlife
(October & November, winter
ice). I hear it now,
an echo from the prow
of gray stone mothership. Your
Notre Dame of infinite mercy,
villain François. Or Chartres,
Hen – where light chartreuse
rhymes with sky-blues, calm sea
of sunset rose. On the scarred floor
a labyrinthine feedback
loop speeds Argo-carrack
by umbilical thesis to Ari’s door.
Arachne, Ariadne...in Rhode Island?
One subterranean Ocean
Stream, Atlantean
where every son of J sails home again
across Medea’s Méditerranée – &
where Medusa’s stone frown
melts, to gleaming crown
of salty dew... grail of compassion.
9.11.18
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