I Dream a Communion

Everybody knows I’m married to Liberty. It has to be this way so the branch won’t break when the feathers fall in the field as they always do, out-of-the-blue, making us wonder; making us seek a culprit. We insist there’s a fang-faced mongrel! We insist he Exists. Touché, I exit early for a funeral, hang out in darkened halls, because that’s my need. I need sustenance. I mean I’m grubbing on some food at a funeral. I admit everything by admitting nothing. It has to be this way. I’ll eat the moon, -its shadowy face.

[playing it again for the Toads as inspired by Grace]

 

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11 thoughts on “I Dream a Communion

  1. Monster, need and hunger in dark-hall places, dealing in funereal finality. There’s great energy here and I think affirmation. The best kind maybe, having gone (going) through a crucible.

  2. This narrative voice rings with authenticity. The setting of the funeral – always a time for the living to pause and reflect – adds to the irony, and the last line is brilliant.

  3. This feels to me like both a very Catholic and American poem; I imagine a bald eagle seeking sustenance and not. A really interesting take on Wright and on this idea of seeking freedom too, Angie, at a cost. Thanks. k.

  4. I like the way you’ve woven in the line from Wright’s poem here : ‘It has to be this way so the branch won’t break when the feathers fall in the field as they always do, out-of-the-blue, making us wonder; making us seek a culprit.’

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