The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 11/16/09

[BlueIris]

--from "The Star Market"

The people Jesus loved were shopping at the Star Market yesterday.
An old lead-colored man standing next to me at the checkout
breathed so heavily I had to step back a few steps.

Even after his bags were packed he still stood, breathing hard and
hawking into his hand. The feeble, the lame, I could hardly look at them:
shuffling through the aisles, they smelled of decay, as if the Star Market

had declared a day off for the able-bodied, and I had wandered in
with the rest of them—sour milk, bad meat—
looking for cereal and spring water.

Jesus must have been a saint, I said to myself, looking for my lost car
in the parking lot later, stumbling among the people who would have
been lowered into rooms by ropes, who would have crept

out of caves or crawled from the corners of public baths on their hands
and knees begging for mercy.

If I touch only the hem of his garment, one woman thought,
could I bear the look on his face when he wheels around?

--Marie Howe

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. My dear BlueIris...

Wow, this is one tough poem. Very vivid, though, and thought-provoking.

I like it!

Thank you...

[kayakjohnny]

2. Oh my goodness, I can't even believe this.

What it took to produce this. I don't quite know what to say.

[BlueIris]

6. Yeah, Marie Howe tends to have that effect on people. nt

[Tuesday Afternoon]

3. now we are getting somewhere.

awesome. thanks.

[BlueIris]

5. HEY. Are you trying to imply that heretofore we have *not* been

anywhere?

[Capn Sunshine]

4. evocative as hell

the images crumble off the page like dried leaves and dust.
Jesus knows better than to come back, they'll just kill him again