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