Saturday, March 12, 2016

Fly (a sonnet)

By Eric Meub
 







 
 
 
 

 
 
 
 
She steps into the church, unprepared, underdressed,
just to shake off the downpour, the street noise defied
by a coffin-lid door slowly sealing inside
with the shadows her hurry to go un-confessed.


The interior, drably antique, monochrome,
now resounds with a murmur. It lowers and falls
from the black porous mass – lace mantillas, knit shawls –
shabby light-of-the-world blearing down from the dome.

Botticelli and Venus, come quickly! This green
Primavera in Underworld pales at the slow,
almost glacial relentlessness telling her No,
you’re but one of the houseflies that buzz on the screen.

It’s a struggle to get to the door, to the air,
to the sounds of street traffic, the rain on her hair.


Copyright © 2016 by Eric Meub
Eric Meub, architect, lives and practices in Pasadena. He is the adopted brother of the artist, Susan C. Price. They respect, in their different ways, the line.

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