Sam Silva

Beneath the Sacred Marble

Relics of an ancient heart!
...leading my soul
with earthly pleasures! wizening with love
my wicked dreams!
Bones of such saints
as cast their lot
against the gray machine!
Girls who were lovers...bent and profuse!
or filling my days
with the art, the words, the gentle wills
which they stitched
like a kiss
into some pillow's tapestry
even forsaking wedded grace
to follow and feed
such starving dogs.
Boys, like me, who were somehow always
less than men....unachieved and demented
but fired with an inner inspiration.
These were my friends, my city,
my ocean's league
battering the shores of a tropical island
or the colder foam
of northern New England...the harbors
of Manhattan
where all of the mermaids
are born and die.
Terribly! My bones are old
and were ancient always
with such steadfast keepers.
Oh hungry church! in an unjust world....

Sam Silva © 2009