Tuesday poem #531 : Emily Tristan Jones : A Happening

 

 

Francis is reckless in the grass
and then receiving the Eucharist from a crystal chalice. What is happening?

Euphoria talks a lot 
Euphoria is bed of grass
Euphoria is panic
all the way home

He saw a seraph and took from it 
wine

He was afraid of its six wings 
    like the points of a star

embedded all over with eyes
    each independently aware

Under its down are bold red lips
    and an excited face

All its wings like wigs being worn 
    Not one smacking of vanity

Two poignant wings
    Two wings like hands that gesture
    Two wings as a coy bottom half

Jesus in the cross hatch           

and an ofan like a dog 
    along 

Francesco! In your fun burlap 
         Your toes pressed to the ground like worms in the night
         What are you always talking about?
         What is the worry?

 

 

 

Emily Tristan Jones lives in Montreal and edits Columba. Her own poems have been in the Harvard Review, Denver Quarterly, The Puritan, Dalhousie Review, Shearsman, and other journals. She lives in Montreal, where she teaches poetry to at-risk youth.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan