A Poem In My Christmas Stocking

Written by poetry  |  29. November 2000

by Priscilla Barton All right, Poets! A poetic connection has been made. I just knew there was a poet somewhere on Long Island. Mr. Corey Houlihan was good enough to E-mail me with the dates and place of upcoming poetry readings. There will be rant and rhyme at The Swingset on 12/09/00, located at 60 East Main St. Bayshore, NY (631) 666-2138 ($8 cover - $5 w/student ID) I intend to sneak in the back door. Shhh... And on 12/30/00, Brett Axel will be reading his work at The Swingset. You are all invited for a poetic evening. Corey saw a huge placard on the top of a mini-van with the LongIsland.com address. I wonder if our own Mr. Long Island was driving. What a busy guy! Okay, I have this new poem to inflict upon you. I'll be back after the eggnog curdles. Until then, have a merry and poetic Christmas! Peace. The Dead That you would find me in the hollowed bones of sun-dried cattle, asleep in the desert, and wake me with the cells needed for my restoration, reassembled into rivers of salt and blood, layered in skin never before touched, newborn with shadow-sight, awkward and afraid, unsure if the vast space inside me can be filled by a man who would spin through my center with the velocity of planets, and the scream of fierce winds, who would identify me in the dark with hands of red clay, perform the ritual and say the words, that I would, once again, know the confusion and delirium of Lazarus.

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