Tuesday, February 23, 2010

strip (a poem for lent)

My wall of books needs editing
but like a Fat Tuesday sinner
I retch
rather than gently yield
this willful mother of a habit
and binge on another stack of books
now seeping into my bloodstream;
it shellacs my interior.

I am sick with words
the Tylenol-in-the-morning kind of sick
that reminds me
the liver is as old as I am
and the room went spinning
before I finally slept it off.

The stew of poems and psalms and epistles
is caught in my gullet.
Sutras seep from my pours.
I have lent my birthright to others,
painted my image with a thesis from a book;
regurgitated wisdom to form a hard candy coating.
I have silenced the kingdom within.

Give me space.
Let me think,
just a moment, please.
I need a simple glass of water
on the nightstand,
a few hours in my flannels,
stripping it all down
before a bathtub or a yoga mat.
God, give me quiet
and speak again to me,
directly in me, without words.


lila.p.levy, February 17, 2010

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