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LAce Posted Monday, November 6th, 2006
Saints in Her Backyard
Theresa Boyar

She shows me the bright lawn,
the blinding jury of sunflowers
running yellow and strong along her back fence,

points to the exact spot in the interminable sky
where St. Therese appeared.
It was a day much like this, she says,

and I can see it too: grass warm against bare feet,
sun large and obscene, odor of sulfur
from the nearby factories strangling the air.

She just came, all of a sudden. A giant
in the sky, the face of St. Therese floating
over the vegetable garden, the cramped azaleas.

She spoke gently to me and then from the sky
fell a shower of roses, she says. I ask her if it hurt, the thorns.
Did she save any, are there scars? She brushes

an ant from her sleeve and tells me
three times over: no. I wait in the yard until dusk,
straining clouds into eyelids and petals.

Inside, my aunt smiles over a sink of dishes,
communing with gods in a veil of rising steam.

Comments [post a comment]

Posted by Miriam Kotzin on Monday, November 6th, 2006 at 8:38 PM
Great poem, Theresa.

Posted by Anne Bauer on Monday, November 6th, 2006 at 8:41 PM
An amazing poem

Posted by Sharon Hurlbut on Tuesday, November 7th, 2006 at 2:06 AM
Lovely!

Posted by Ellen Meister [ ellenmeister@hotmail.com ] on Tuesday, November 7th, 2006 at 4:49 AM
Wow. This is impressive, Theresa. Love every line.

Posted by Cheryl Chambers on Tuesday, November 7th, 2006 at 11:19 AM
This is just beautiful! Wonderful poem.

Posted by Bonnie ZoBell on Thursday, November 9th, 2006 at 3:37 AM
Beautiful, whimsical poem. Such gorgeous contrasts.

Posted by Katrina Denza on Thursday, November 9th, 2006 at 12:19 PM
How beautiful. I love so many lines and images. "...blinding jury of sunflowers..." Wow!



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