Monday, June 4, 2012

Tuesday Poem--Little Cottage


The day I wed silence, the bells were stopped in the campanile,
the flut-flut of the candles were extinguished, the doves

on the red-tiled roof tucked their beaks under their wings,
even their pinfeathers held down by the light of the eclipse.

Held back, the music, but for the note of my ring as I grasped
the goblet to sip the dark wine, my lips speaking softly

the unalterable vows. The shadow of a bishop in his crozier 
and miter leaned over to clip off my hair with his golden shears.

I lifted my arms heavenward for the linen smock, the 'little cottage' 
of the chasuble which I will never abandon. The Virgin in her lunette 

shifted the Babe on her hip and leaned down to put 
the Muse's chrism on my mouth, to both bless and seal it.


  1. the little cottage is unknown to me, but how appropriate a metaphor. this is very powerful, melissa. (espec here, among the red-tiled roofs, the iconography at every bend in the road...)

    home soon,

  2. My dear Susan, how funny, your beautiful post card arrived today! "Little Cottage" is the original source meaning of the Latin word, chasuble. I'm not the kind of poet who could pass up the use of that fabulous idea.
    Safe return, dear friend. xo

  3. As always, John, your words are precious to me. Thank you for reading the poem line by line and helping me hear when the music was off and could be bettered. I knew you would 'get' this poem.

  4. Again again again Melissa, I'm infused. I'm feeling grateful that while you can write with such familiarity about that sweet and holy vow, yet you are still speaking. With love and with thanks. Pam xo

  5. Oh, Pam, how wonderful, wonderful to hear from you again. Please come and stay when you can. xo