LIPS ON SKIN MMCLXXIA Poem by Terry CollettA YOUTH IN AN ABBEY IN 1972 HAUNTED BY THOUGHTS OF A WOMANFrom my cell window the cloister garth could be seen the clock chiming each quarter of an hour, campana sonus est vox Domini, Dom Charles instructing on apple picking how to do and not to do, George hoovering the cloister we used big brooms once Hugh said dust everywhere even using sawdust and water, she was naked and we made love on her sofa, Dio parla nel lavoro the Italian monk said as I clipped the high hedge by the church, sing with silvery voice the canticle of love Therese said (saint that is), I tolled the big bell for the Angelus as shown by Dom James last time, Dieu est ici dans votre c"ur the French monk told me tapping his chest as we stood in the cloister waiting for Vespers, she knelt down and said take me wildly so I did, the impudence of the sinner said Bernard(Saint) displeases God as much as the modesty of the penitent gives him pleasure, I fingered the feet of the Crucified on the wall in my room disturbing the dust, hören Gott the Austrian monk said den er hört, true happiness is to enjoy the present without anxious dependence upon the future said Gareth quoting Seneca as we sat in the refectory before the abbot came in, I kissed each part of her my lips on her skin. © 2016 Terry Collett |
StatsAuthorTerry CollettUnited KingdomAboutTerry Collett has been writing since 1971 and published on and off since 1972. He has written poems, plays, and short stories. He is married with eight children and eight grandchildren. on January 27t.. more..Writing
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