the lord's quartet, praise song, and prayer
Three poems by Emily Ellison
the lord's quartet
i.
ravish the virgin
candle when you ignite
her wick,
blowing so
slight her modest
light shivers
like curtains
flipped up in an April gale,
the whole room in flight
as bohemian waxwings
lift their smoke.
ii.
gaze naked and unabashed
at your radiant skin,
coat your limbs with lacquer
so they will not tarnish,
make for yourself
an alabaster song
as you press together
all the body’s palms--
those of your hands as well as the internal
heart-palms held up in praise--
pleating yourself
to offer an accordion soul
doubled over.
iii.
when the ewes gather, and the asphodel
flap their petals around the bend
presenting an image
of purity born from dirt,
of the stalk rising and entering earth’s womb,
of the head bobbing with bliss emitting pleasure’s scent,
ask the oyster mother, which body
are we meant to eat?
iv.
say mother,
we are strung like pearls around your neck,
mesmerized with your flickering religion,
and the lord’s flame will let off
in vanilla tongue-flicks.
ravish the virgin
candle when you ignite
her wick,
blowing so
slight her modest
light shivers
like curtains
flipped up in an April gale,
the whole room in flight
as bohemian waxwings
lift their smoke.
ii.
gaze naked and unabashed
at your radiant skin,
coat your limbs with lacquer
so they will not tarnish,
make for yourself
an alabaster song
as you press together
all the body’s palms--
those of your hands as well as the internal
heart-palms held up in praise--
pleating yourself
to offer an accordion soul
doubled over.
iii.
when the ewes gather, and the asphodel
flap their petals around the bend
presenting an image
of purity born from dirt,
of the stalk rising and entering earth’s womb,
of the head bobbing with bliss emitting pleasure’s scent,
ask the oyster mother, which body
are we meant to eat?
iv.
say mother,
we are strung like pearls around your neck,
mesmerized with your flickering religion,
and the lord’s flame will let off
in vanilla tongue-flicks.
praise song
blessed be my mother as her lips whisper and lisp praises for you, even her auburn hair is aflame for you O Lord, blessed be my father rubbing her back to push the smoke inside the skin again, O blessed be this house even though these walls have heard your name sour and blessed be the hunched over lover O Lord I know you have allowed us to break each other so that you may build us up again so blessed be the name of salvation which is not a dove but crows traveling one by one in the ache of it
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prayer
please help my mother
understand when I love
the boys with my body
I am giving them the temple
so they might know god
seeping through the limbs
ecstatic, understand
when bare I am the image
of god hovering over white
waters, both the surface
and the deep, on my knees
please let it please you
when I open
to let beggars in, hordes
swooshing my hair up
around my jaw
dropped in praise
understand when I love
the boys with my body
I am giving them the temple
so they might know god
seeping through the limbs
ecstatic, understand
when bare I am the image
of god hovering over white
waters, both the surface
and the deep, on my knees
please let it please you
when I open
to let beggars in, hordes
swooshing my hair up
around my jaw
dropped in praise
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Emily Ellison is a first year MFA poet at Texas State University; She also works as an Instructional Assistant for their English faculty. She lives in San Marcos, Texas with two cats and an abundance of plants.
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