NaPoWriMo Poem #25: Astrophagy

The fire, crackling,
reaches fingers upward and curls
around the pan atop which the
open-mouthed, glassy-eyed fish softly char and
die again to the heat before
their final rest inside of our

bellies. The purr and crinkle of the flames
only makes the silence between us
grow wider into chasm until
the void swallows itself in this
coastal Galilean darkness. Only our faces give any song,
glowing in the haloed orange of the fire
just before He asks the first

question: Simon bar Jonas,
do you love me
more than these?
The cock

sounds his crow again in my
ear, and my throat tries to sew itself
shut with needle and thread of
a single lump in front of my vocal strings. “Lord,

you know that
I love you.” The darkness
stains itself with yet more tincture, the sun sinking further
into my chest. And then

his reply: Feed my lambs. Again,
the chasm grows,

this time by
the sun digging his grave
behind my ribcage.

And again, the
question: Simon bar Jonas, do
you love me?

Now I try
to swallow the moon, but
she bangs white

fists on the
back of my trachea door.
“Yes, Lord, you

know that I
love you.” And then His
reply: Feed my

sheep. The fish
is stuck inside my throat,
caught by stars

that I inhaled
to wash the moon down.
And now again,

the question: Simon
bar Jonas, do you love
me?
I have now

swallowed this
entire night, the panorama that had
hung over our heads.

I strain not
to belch moonlight up, but
it escapes me

as I reply:
“Lord, you know everything. You
Know that I

love you.” And
again his reply: Feed my
sheep.
And the flock wraps itself
around my waist, girding me like a belt, and
the stars, moon, and sun slowly find their way
out. The darkness grabs her jewels
and hangs each of them over our heads, once again to sparkle,
and the moon dust settles on my brow to rest
along with the “follow me”
that has just risen from his lips. The cock wanders away,
beak sealed shut, eyes occluded by the sparkle of the stars,
the shine of the rising moon, and
the fire’s dance as the coals beneath it
sing themselves to sleep.

Written 4/30/11
© 2011 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
————————————————
From this weekend! I was trying to catch up and finish my 30/30 for NaPoWriMo 2011. Alas, I was two poems short of making it, but I’m sharing the products with you anyway. This is again an Easter/Resurrection poem. I played around, using some lunes as structure for some of the stanzas in the middle of the poem. Comments and feedback welcome.

-Nicole

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About ravenswingpoetry

I am a 38 year old writer from Columbus, OH and the creator of Raven's Wing Poetry. I am a poet, seeker, fellow traveler, and autistic.
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