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The Matron Saint of Angry Young Men
by A.M. Demarcoshe collects pieces of colored glass from the street
cuts herself, occasionally, as she examines them
she carries them in her paisley purse
couriers them, gives them safe passage
she has devised rituals of trinity for them:
one night in her apartment alone; music and marijuana smoke
one trip through the cemetery grounds
one party with friends and keen conversation
completed now and whole with love
she walks them to her favorite park, alone
displays them to the trees and the sunlight and the insects
escorts them all to that same bridge
holds them as communion wafers
and then releases them into the river below
as she ambles homeward
she imagines a child on a beach, several centuries from now
picking up that self same ruby glint
smooth now and suitable for fingering, for cherishing as treasure
08/22/2010 Posted on 08/23/2010
Copyright © 2025 A.M. Demarco
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 08/23/10 at 03:30 AM ... excellent..... |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 08/23/10 at 01:02 PM So much frantic, intense storytelling for what's really a pretty short piece. It's just really good stuff. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/23/10 at 07:59 PM I like this a lot - don't get the title connection at all - love the sense of now and and the desire to share future discovery. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 12/03/15 at 12:39 AM Congrats on POTD! Five years since I read this - it remains a moving piece of work. Thank you. |
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