SUNDAY POETRY (ON EASTER MONDAY)
- Jaye Benoit
- Mar 29, 2016
- 1 min read

I KIND OF THOUGHT EASTER MONDAY TOOK THE PLACE OF SUNDAY THIS WEEK, BUT I NOW DISAGREE WITH MY FORMER SELF. MY FUTURE SELF WILL STICK TO SUNDAY POETRY BEING ON ACTUAL SUNDAYS RATHER THAN MONDAYS THAT MAY ACT LIKE SUNDAYS.
TODAY'S POEM WAS WRITTEN SOME TIME AGO, BUT WAS AWKWARD AND UNFINISHED UNTIL NOW. IT IS A LITTLE HAUNTING AND MELANCHOLY, BUT IN THE SPIRIT OF EASTER, IT DOES DEAL WITH DEATH AND FAMILY. IT DOESN'T POINT TO A REBIRTH, BUT KNOW FOR YOURSELF THAT REBIRTH DOES ALWAYS APPEAR IN THE CYCLE EVENTUALLY.
OUR YOUTH
DAY LONG.
AND DRENCHED-
I WASHED YOU, YOUNG BEFORE.
IN SOAP, IN WATER, WE LAUGHED, OMNISCIENT,
A KNOWINGNESS COME ONCE THIS FAR.
AND COLD, AS NIGHT DRAGGED ON FOR HOURS
THE SILVER MOON STUCK IN MY THROAT
A LUMP I COULD NOT SWALLOW
AND AS MY MOUTH OPENED, I SAW YOU:
SMALL.
ASHES SCATTERED WITH THE LEAVES
AND WE WERE BENT THERE, NEW LIKE CHILDREN
KNEELING, PRAYING TO THE TREES.
IN THE FIELD FALLOW,
I LEFT HER THERE.
MOURNING AND MISLED-
I LEFT HER THERE. HER FEET TURNED COLD.
AND I WASHED YOU UP, INSTEAD.
I WASHED YOU UP WITH SOAP IN WATER-
CREATURES TOGETHER: YOU. ME.
DAUGHTER FATHER SISTER MOTHER-
MY BROTHER.
BURIED IN THE SOIL.
AND IN HIS PASSING-
DAY DONE.
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