From A Saint To A Monk
written by: Alexandre Bartolo
The wavelength is equal to
wave’s speed divided by frequency.
There are no vales or crests.
While I possess a key to cotton clouds,
you have blessings’ lock, a universal
Three-pins plug: both match.
She didn’t have to teach you how to differ
right from wrong, avenues from boulevards,
Incense from incensed: you became a monk.
Your robes’ hem still sweeps gravel sidewalks
and your temple’s mats, contemplating
Eventual dew freshness, a reincarnated cry.
“No to tubes twisted like branches, parachuteless
adrenaline, catheters
Angled at 90 degrees, and mechanical breathing.”
Honey dragonflies, kissing mosquitoes, sweet hummingbirds
cleaved the calcium of her bones
Until her energetic heart asked for rest.
Perceive the come and go of her ribcage,
synchronized to medical instruments’ beats.
Remember her welcoming sight: an organic refuge.
Tonight she is as frail as you were
50 years ago — yet you hear
Less moans, she captures more.
She waves, love stays: vivid
like orange tree scent
She mixed into your bath when you were young.
- From A Saint To A Monk - January 6, 2018
