[Originally published in the now-defunct “zine” Message in a Bottle.]
The Egyptian Coptics who wore the tunics were angels
until the decade of warning, grave building,
a gravity of no consequence. The waters buried themselves
into the earth and the voices of the living dead
flowed beneath the ground until sands covered everything.
I too believe in one Deity, but I am unsure if I can
die for it. Study the pattern of lines in this poem. Do you see
blank space or do you see a belly full of living?
The Egyptian Coptics who studied carpentry were angels
until the decade of metal, charcoal and glasswork.
This was the time the nail took on a flow of energy in and of itself
and men caught up with its energy and used it.
Now study the Bakongo People of the nail fetish Nkisi Nkonda,
the way they fill their belly with sacred space
using long nails to harness everything evil within this world.
Somewhere a figure walks with a Golem
and a statue of metal and wood is crucified with sharp objects
hammered everywhere but the belly of the stone.
| Copyright © 2020 by Michael H. Brownstein Michael H. Brownstein’s volumes of poetry, A Slipknot Into Somewhere Else and How Do We Create Love?, were published by Cholla Needles Press in 2018 & 2019, respectively. |
Great poem today--brilliant images, great provoking thoughts, and I loved the anthropology!
ReplyDeleteI love it when you send me researching. Love the language, the entrance of the poet into the poem ever so briefly and the history incorporated in this piece. Was able (I think) to pick through most morsels, but never resolved the title. If you ever would be interested in sharing info on that piece, would love to hear. Thanks Michael! Another great piece.
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