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Tuesday, January 20, 2009

A Prayer to St. Anthony of Padua and Sylvia Plath

Jeni Crone -

A Prayer to St. Anthony of Padua and Sylvia Plath

Confusion over how

Ornithologists and Pilots are two different species
is worth pondering, but 

The thought does not return

A continent to Elizabeth Bishop.

The middle of the day was 

A broken dinner plate.

Saturday slipped from

My hands, of accumulating layers of 

Chicago-winter and turpentine.

Describe water without words, without the wet, cold, hot, rain,
liquid, etc. words.

Umbrellas used to be made out of words, your words.

Watch the negative space that seems to grow bigger around the red suitcases,

The red amplified, 

The liquid charcoal sipped through a straw

Sinking to the bottom to absorb it all.

On the Brown Line, bricks and metal,

Transparent skin and melting snow,

The sum of the velocity of the train

And the propulsion of my thoughts,

Windows are never 

Safe to use as mirrors.

What if on the smallest sub-atomic level we were 

Only made of sound? And

Death is only recognizable by missing someone’s voice,

Watch the negative space grow until everything heard inversed to invisible. 

No one makes a t-shirt that says, 

“I spent 4 days in the psych ward and all I got was hospital socks.”

Try counting ten, nine, eight, backwards

Next time you lose yourself. Say a prayer

To St. Anthony.

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