If you have been to Notre Dame
on a spring night, then you know
there is a patch of quiet in the eagled
arms of the Jesus statue. He looks
upward at a supernova Mary,
and the sky vacuums around her.
The dome swallows all the gold
in the stars, and she sprinkles
it soft on the shadowed brick pathway,
welcoming you to partake in this hallowed
hug between mother and Son. The tulip
hearts at your feet are bloody with prayers,
but this cosmic embrace holds the whole world
still.
---
apr "28," 2017
tired and uninspired!
YOU ARE READING
watterson
Poetryan experimental attempt to write a poem a day for the month of april spoiler alert: i did it
