Deborah DeNicola Wins 1st Prize Carpe Articulum

In Carpe Articulum Poetry Contest  Winter Issue 2010  for . . .

The Tree at Casa Cara

Just off Route One

before Tigertail Corner, down the street from Casa Cara,

there’s a gargantuan banyan with limbs like Gothic buttresses.

I step in, genuflect, walk around the labyrinthine shadow,

and I am once again at Chartres.   No cars come by. The bells

of birdsong cease and all is pagan

subtext. I am at worship, and welling at the root, a woivre

undergroundLeaves of blue shoulder the spires, and light

sculpts with golden tongues something ancient

which in turn rejuvenates

and I don’t know if I have penance or license

here in Miami’s medieval groves where suddenly

centuries flow and coalesce. Early in adolescence, safe

behind the privet hedge of our suburb’s borders,

I wandered with him to find a place to lie

and kiss. There was no canopy like this but we erected

pleasure in the hammock of a willow. I almost

swore vows to the tree gods, or goddesses, but for the body’s

coveting touch, the soft branching of skirts that rush and juncture,

here and here . . . And though I have as much now

years after lust–I smother desire only a moment,

summoning rapture both below and above. It took–

generations and scaffolds and fires and wheels and

Templar monks—lifetimes

to raise that cathedral to its finish.  And now

as clouds burn off, the banyan tree

at Tigertail flourishes down dimensional hallways

while the tablet of my hand glows,

alchemical in cobalt, in emerald.

His name was Jim. We were so very young

but we remembered the shoots of some other knowing,

domed in all that natural burgeoning

past the pillars into the nave.

No Comments

No comments yet.

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Leave a comment

WordPress Themes