Shortlisted for the OSP Poetry Competition
In the charnel house
by St. Sebastian’s chapel
on the French rue du vin
through the Alsace,
skeletons frolic helter-skelter
in their iron-barred sepulchre.
A metatarsal keeps company
with a mandible, tibias
consort with clavicles,
a patella hobnobs with
three thoracic vertebrae.
We wend our way
through grand cru vinyards
to the medieval walls
of Dambach-la-Ville,
pass the Gate of the Two Keys,
a fountain with St. Ursula,
martyred virgin, and the bear,
to return to the pension where
we’re staying. Spoons,
we curl together in a
French mid-sag double bed.
I turn to face you
and see myself and you
clearly in this brief reprieve
before we couple with
the contortionists in
the crypt. A skull,
I kiss the bone
beneath your skin.
On a white queen carved in ivory in the thirteenth century C.E.
How can I begin to tell you what I’ve seen?
And would you understand my meaning?
Century upon century I have watched without sleep
the power plays of bishops, knights and kings.
Would you believe me if I spoke of endless greed
and foolish oaths of allegiance?
Century upon century I have watched without sleep
the power plays of bishops, knights and kings.
Whole armies of pawns have fallen at my feet,
dying – for no reason.