holy water
“I would eat my way into perdition to taste you.” ― Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
[cover is from “Venus and Cupid” by Artemisia Gentileschi]
I’ve been thinking about holy water lately. What we want it to cleanse, what we dare touch with it. I have been remembering faith like thirst, seeking frantically for something. These poems all revolve around the theme of “holy water,” religious symbols, and devotion.
alchemy
Holy water dripping down your thighs,
oh, I am so very thirsty, my angel,
for your consecrated flesh and the burn
of its softness on my forsaken mouthhospitality
I know how to face my demons,
we have lunch every Sunday
after church
we have dinner every other Tuesday
after work hours
I know how to face my demons
and I know them all
by name and dietary restrictions,
I know what to cook for them,
what they need
to survive and to thrive:
I will be dead before
I let a guest go hungry in my house
(I can face them
but I cannot turn my head away
from them
I don't know what to do
with this empty kitchen,
this empty place)saints on the rocks
Drink up the holy water and ward me off
Place your cards face down on the table,
I'll have a shot at your luck
It's happy hour at the church:
bourbon and holy water make one hell of a mix,
and all I know is it burns like the devil
[“The Cheat with the Ace of Diamonds”(detail) - Georges de La Tour]
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Beautiful mix of gothic and softness.
" Holy water dripping down your thighs,
oh, I am so very thirsty, my angel,
for your consecrated flesh and the burn
of its softness on my forsaken mouth "
* * *
Bless you for that image ..
It will haunt me..