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Unholy Trinity
by Kristina Woodhillmy unholy trinity,
three straight lines
divulge my corner
in this room where floor
meets walls,
where i scour for
the unsanctified scum,
the collective damned dust,
the at-crossed-purposes
clipped nails,
butted up against
this last desperate
resting place;
forming the larger
triangle
i sit cross-legged,
here, i, rest-less,
rock and pray
for
backs against the wall,
those seeking the
termite's hole,
clawing at
the molding's mitered joint
behind which sheet rock
seeks the insulating cushion
rock and pray
for silent sue, the secretary,
head forced down,
held after work until
the bosses job was done
and we young clerks
could not find our voices,
hidden behind
teeth-chattering typewriters,
impotent staplers,
and bile-smelling,
spreading coffee-cup
stains
rock and pray
for happy jim, driving,
crazy in love
with jessie, full to the brim
with joy and booze
on the old road to the coast
that night
with all "the gang",
the morning finding
a zombie dorm of disbelief,
new plaster casts,
a crazed jim, never
to father jessie's child
rock and pray
for the soul of the bastard
who crept the dorm hall in '72,
opened the unlocked door,
stabbed in its sleeping pulse
the heart of Nancy Wyckoff,
her color red soon staining
terrified coed hands
held tightly together
in every huddled corner
across a murdered campus
i hold you to me
i hold you to me
i hold you to me
in the name
of the father sue needed to speak
of the son crazed jim would never hold
of the holy spirit released too soon by nancy
Requiescant in pace
04/22/2010 Author's Note: We visited an old alma mater this past weekend; apparently some memories needed to be written down, offered up, and given their wings. Names have been changed except for Nancy Wyckoff.
Posted on 04/22/2010
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 04/22/10 at 07:49 PM I love the way the poem calls out the names of people, as well the mixed emotions about "place". Excellent. Thanks. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 04/25/10 at 04:20 PM I love the grim and jarring tones that flow through this reminiscence...there is something of sorrow and brutality, all the things never said in time to save someone, everything said far too often to condemn them. Revisitation can be a bitch -but you managed to convey it with absolute grace. |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 04/25/10 at 05:42 PM what an amazingly poweful piece, how its flow begins to chant as these three stories are shared stanza by stanza...well crafted piece here, truly...amazing what a well we all hold deep inside...peace to u poet, ~jewels xo |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 04/26/10 at 12:46 PM there is tragedy occurring here of Shakespearean proportion and you pen it so well, Kristina. the lyrics are so applicable to music and could as easily be wed to a guitar. |
| Posted by Laura Doom on 04/26/10 at 06:15 PM I love it when you bite... |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/08/10 at 01:07 PM The spirits were in you as you bled their stories into verse. The poem you gave birth to is an attempt to bring life after witnessing the tragedy. This is why poetry exists. Thank you for sharing. |
| Posted by Morgan D Hafele on 07/04/10 at 09:06 PM wow! i'm at a loss for words, this is amazing and heart wrenching. what a trip down memory lane. |
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