Old Bones
Copyright © 2001 Igino

 

The First Song of Reverence

 

T. Joseph Marquis Boutin

 

I like to picture cities bricked with shrines
In carved stone niches underneath the stairs
And parlor cabinets faced with warped glass doors
And flags that snap up every workman's prayers.

There alters spread like lichen on a cliff.
The hardest angles on the hardest face
Will soften in the glow of candlestubs,
The smoke from sweetgrass left to burn, the lace

Of ash and pebbles, all past offerings.
And still no god or goddess rules these streets.
There are no grand or granulated truths,
Just reverence for what each sense daily meets.

     If what I see will give me what I need,
     Then why should it not be what I first heed.

 

 

 


Author Bio

Todd lives with his wife and two dogs on the banks of Bog Brook in Mechanic Falls, Maine. In addition to writing, he teaches for the Early Head Start Program and tutors mathematics at a local community college.

 

 


 

 

"The First Song of Reverence" Copyright © 2001 T. Joseph Marquis Boutin. All rights reserved.
Published by permission of the author.

 

This page last updated 10-23-01.

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